Sons of Orpheus
by Gree
Summary: The Praetors of Orpheus fight against the enemies of humanity. A set of short stories originally written over at Bolter and Chainsword. Reviews and comments welcomed.
1. Measure of a Man

**Author's Notes:** This is a series of short stories based around the Praetors of Orpheus. Basically this is the intial revison after some helpful suggestions. The site really messed up some of my formatting. If you see sentences or passages that look weird, then it's probably the site messing up the formatting again. I'll get to the rest of the chapters eventually.

**Measure of a Man**

_My name is Varion. Varion Nicanor._

_I am a child of Orpheus._

_Or to be more accurate, I am a Praetor of Orpheus, a gene-son of Roboute Guilliman, and a warrior of his Imperial Majesty's Astartes._

_And now my Company comes to Yaltoi._

_The planet hangs in space as a blue-gray orb. Yaltoi is a backwater world lying at the edge of the Ultima Segmentum. It's a small world whose main product is mining promethium from the coastal underground deposits. It is a planet that is bloodied by the greenskins. It is also under the protection of my Chapter. Our ship, the strike cruiser Arclight, and the Imperial Navy, have been hunting a group of ork raiders for three weeks through the outer reaches of space. We have tracked them here to Yaltoi, a little blue-gray fleck of life in the Lord-Emperor's vast sea of stars._

_The orks landed and began to rampage over the cites of Yaltoi. Tens of thousands die before the Arclight and and Navy arrive in the system. Aboard our ship the Third Company prepares for war, swearing vengeance on the xenos filth that defiles a world under the protection of the chapter. Our destination in Yaltoi Port, a city of four hundred thousand. It is the capital of the world, and the one place were the greenskin invaders converge, like flies drawn to a corpse. The greenskins come to annihilate it completely, we will not let them. We will break them or die trying._

_I sit now, in my drop pod. I ignore the background noise as we enter the stratosphere. I have done drops many, many times over my century and a half of life. Eventually such operations become second nature to Astartes. We learn to ignore the pressures that would kill or cripple a normal man._

_It's what makes us more than human. Astartes do not complain of hardship. We are beyond that._

_My brothers sit near me, in a circle around the pod, locked within their restraint-thrones. Our power packs have already been locked into our armor, giving life to the false servo-muscles that lie beneath our ceramite war plate. The hum of our armor is drowned out by the screaming of the pod._

_Lukias sits next to me, clad in Mark IV plate, a relic of the Chapter. It's painted white, scrolls depicting his personal heraldry hang from his left shoulder guard. On his right shoulder, like all Praetors, there is the starburst shield of the Chapter. He is my rock, my strong right hand. Ceranus, hard-bitten proud Ceranus, is to me left, he checks his bolter one last time. I cannot count on a finer shot in the squad. Daecus is next to him in his polished Mark VI plate. He is always at the forefront, gun roaring, acting to inspire. He will be a Chaplain one day. Apion checks his flamer. He is the most recent to join the squad. Morovian's bulk strains at the restraints as Severus and Dakias observe the chronometer. Save for Lukias and Daecus, all are clad in Mark VII Imperator plate._

_That is the Second Squad of the Third Company. My squad. My brothers._

_But there are two missing. Kreatus and Balion. Slain by the witch-Eldar on Morphean three weeks before. I slaughtered their killer but the damage was done. They go with our father now and the Emperor. I conducted the mourning rites aboard the Arclight myself._

_But now is not the time for such things. I remove fear and doubt from my mind. Now is the time to kill._

_We land._

* * *

The doors popped open and Sergeant Varion Nicanor of the Praetors of Orpheus exited the drop pods. His ceramite boots hit the landing door as it dropped to the ground. His footsteps rang harshly off the metal as he trained his bolter around, his entire body readied for combat. All around him the rest of Second Squad embarked out, weapons at ready to open fire.

But they don't come out in a combat zone.

Nicanor looks around. There is no enemy. Before him were dozens upon dozens of civilians moving across a large bridge that is suspended over a broad, fast-flowing river that is choked black with pollution. They are civilians from all sorts of life, habbers, factory workers, city workers and preachers.

_This is not right, we are meant to be at the heart of the ork advance._ Nicanor thought in confusion.

Arteus in his briefing sermon aboard the strike cruiser had already outlined the Praetors mission. They were too dropped hot into the vanguard of the ork advance and stop them cold in order to give the PDF and Guard time. It was a simple mission, one Nicanor had performed many times before. But now we saw no greenskins, only a wide plaza of cold gray buildings and residential habs.

''Brother-Sergeant,'' Lukias speaks. ''This is not our destination'.' he speaks the obvious.

Ceranus looks up at the pod. ''A malfunction in the machine spirit?'' he suggests.

It seems like the most likely thing that has happened. Apion softly groans in frustration.

''Looks like we will have to walk then'' he comments.

''No, please no.'' Ceranus sighs in frustration. His impatience is obvious.

''Maybe.'' Nicanor activated his vox, trying to reach his Captain, a burst of interference fills his helm, no luck there.

''Communications are down, can anyone else contact the Captain?'' Nicanor asks.

Every tries, they get no answer.

''Probably radiation interference'' Lukias notes.

''A bad omen, I don't like this.'' Daecus comments.

''No, no omens, just duty.'' Nicanor replies.

''Brother-Sergeant.'' Lukias interrupts him.

''Yes?'' Nicanor asked.

''The civilians.'' Lukias points.

The Imperial civilians had noticed them.

Dozens upon dozens of people, in swirling crowds come towards the Astartes of Second Squad. Nicanor's visor locks on the lead, figure, a haggered-looking woman before he banished the targeting icon quickly. This entire situation was not what he was expecting at all and it frustrated him.

''Do you smell that?'' Ceranus said over the private vox-channel as the people neared.

''Is that-'' Lukias began.

''-Fear.'' finished Apion.

''Disgusting stench.'' Daecus comments.

Nicanor breaths it in their his armor's olfactory filters, he alters his air intake, tasting the stench of fear. Soured breath, nervous cold sweat. It is an alien stench one that he is unfamiliar with. It is a stench that he hates immediately.

_Is this what we protect?_ He wonders. Fear is something alien, he is aware of it as a concept, but the thought of experiencing it completely foreign to him.

Their cause of distress is obvious, the orks have driven these people back. In the rear of the crowds Nicanor can see the forms of local PDF troopers trying to direct the civilians across the bridge. They are refugees driven out of their homes by war. And now the Emperor's Angels have come. Their fear is forgotten momentarily as they rush the Astartes. Dozens of them crowd around the Praetors as they close ranks, forming a sea of humanity around eight white mountains.

Hands reach out, scraping at war plate. Voices rise up, pleading for salvation, to go forth and slay the orks. Nicanor hears the pleas and begging sobs near him. After a few seconds he realizes they are pleading to take them away from the war-shrouded city.

''What do we do?'' Apion asked.

''I am going to batter my way out, I am not wasting time like this'' Ceranus said.

''No!'' Nicanor says suddenly over his private vox network. ''We do nothing of the sort'.' he commands.

''Then what?'' Ceranus says. He is irritable, annoyed by this delay. Nicanor can hear the tone in his voice thickening in frustration. He can sympathize to an extent. He is a warrior, not an object to be pawed and pleaded at by crying and panicked mortals who cannot even have the guts to defend their own homes. While Nicanor had no doubt he can slaughter his way through the crowd with ease he loathed to resort to such methods. He doubts that Captain Arteus will be very amused to know that his drop started with his proud Astartes warriors slaughterings crying Imperial citizens.

Then something registers on his helm's audio sensors. It is a loud, throaty growl. All of the Praetors are familiar with it. It is the sound of a Chimera engine on full throttle. He has heard that sound a hundred times before on dozens of battlefields, both in the hands of Guard allies and in the hands of traitors.

Three Chimeras come out around a street corner. They stop a dozen meters from the crowd and PDF troopers in the uniforms of the city Guard file out, armed with shock mauls and crowd control shields. They begin to lay into the civilians.

''_That_ brother.'' Lukias says.

* * *

Kallor sat in the cupola of the Chimera, hands folded over his lap, fingers tapping in nervousness as he started distantly into the side chronometer. Across from him Corporal Ramsen checked his shock maul one last time before the chronometer ticked. He regarded his superior hesitantly. Captain Kallor was nervous as hell. Ramsen was not surprised He was noble born, with a handsome profile and tanned skin, the product of Yaltoi's finest families. Due to his family's position he had purchased a commission in the PDF, a cozy spot in a mechanized unit. The 9th Yaltoi mostly a group of reservists.

Ramsen was a reservist, but not like the rest of his comrades. He was one of the few men who had something approaching to actual combat experience, having engaged in firefights with armed smugglers a few years ago when he was with the 45th City Watch group. It was a dammed sight more than his fellows had seen, but Ramsen hesitated to call himself a veteran. After all, fighting poorly-armed criminals was different than facing a horde of bloodthirsty orks. As such he had the dubious honor of being the captain's aide.

The rune at the end of the Chimera flashed green and the ramp dropped.

''Let's go people!'' Ramsen shouted as the PDF squad filed out smartly, shock mauls readied.

As the PDF began to forcibly shove the crowd in front of them to the bridge Ramsen noticed with shock the huge white armored shapes in front of him. He blinked once to confirm what he was seeing was indeed real.

It was.

''A-Astartes'' stuttered Kallor briefly in shock before he straightened up, mustering every bit of nobility he had.

Ramsen was inclined to agree. Astartes, warriors of the Emperor, the Angels of Death were right in front of him. It was an immense honor simply to see one in the flesh. A thought passed through him. Maybe he could even get to talk to one! It excited him. He had dreamed of meeting once ever since he was a boy going to mass, looking at the marble statues of Astartes on the Church walls. And now it seemed the boyhood dream had come true.

Then the Astartes came striding forward, eight figures breaking through the dispersing sea of humanity to stand before Captain Kallor and himself. They were huge figures. Ramsen counted himself as a tall man but even he was dwarfed by these beings. Most of them were head and shoulders taller than he was and twice as board. Their armor was a polished white, with blue trim on the shoulder guards. Across their chests where emblazoned azure double-headed eagles. On each shoulder guard was the icon of a shield. The lead figure wore a red helmet with a blue stripe down the middle. He was obviously an officer of some kind. He had a sheathed sword at his side, a silver-hilted weapon in a jet black scabbard. In his hands was a ornate bolter decorated with the same symbol on his shoulder guard. He glanced down at Kallor, armor servos whirring faintly as he did so.

It was the Captain who spoke first

''Greetings sir-'' he began.

"No.'' the voice of the Marine rumbled, deep and artificial from a vox unit. Kallor was stunned.

''No 'sir', I am Sargent Nicanor.'' he pointed to his gauntlet. Ramsen peered at it. In High Gothic he could see the inscription for 'Nicanor'.

Kallor recovered quickly. ''My apologies Sergeant Nicanor.'' he recovered smoothly, his aristocratic tact taking over. ''We did not expect you to be so far behind our lines.'' he stopped and glanced at Nicanor briefly.

''Come to think of it Sergeant why are you here?'' the Captain asked quizzically.

One of the Marines made to go forward like he was going to speak but the red-helmed sergeant held up a hand. Nicanor looked back at Kallor.

''A malfunction in our drop pod, nothing more.'' he looked at the Chimeras. His eye lenses were green, Ramsen noted, and curiously frightening.

''We require transportation.'' Nicanor indicated the vehicles.

''Our Chimeras?'' Kallor's face was screwed up in confusion. ''But there are protocols.'' he said.

''I have little care for the protocols, if you have any complaints you may file them to my commander'' Nicanor replied, walking past Kallor. Ramsen could hear a faint series of clicks, like private vox channels begin activated. He suspected the Marines were sharing some private communication.

''Wait.'' Kallor hurried up next to the Astartes, his frame looking ridiculously small next to the Marine Sergeant. ''I-''

He never got to finish his sentence.

Something screamed through the air and a Chimera ruptured and exploded. Flames billowed upwards as shrapnel and bits of metal flew everywhere. The civilians screamed and stampeded across the bridge in complete terror. Ramsen looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.

Slowly he glanced out and saw green shapes coming out of nearby alleyways and vents. Hulking muscular green figures clad in rags and bits of crude armor. Their bodies were slathered in some sort of private camouflage and they wore thick goggles over their faces. They carried hunks of metal that loosely resembled weapons. One held a smoking rocket launcher. Ramsen had never seen them in the flesh before, but he knew what they were.

Orks.

''Ork infiltrators.'' one of the Marines said behind him. Nicanor turned to Kallor.

''Mortal, get your men behind us along with the civilians, do not get in our way.'' he said curtly. Kallor barley had time to mutter a question before the Astartes squad swept off in an assault formation.

There was a few dozen orks coming out to encircle the Imperials. Ramsen wondered how the hell they had penetrated so deep behind the Imperial forces. Surely they could not have gotten that far in? He had never fought orks, only heard stories, but from what he heard sneaking about was not their forte. Going by their camouflage ti seemed like they were some sort of scout or infiltrator, but that prospect was ridiculous.

Orks sneaking about? Ha!

Ramsen's thoughts were interrupted by the bark of bolters as the Astartes opened fire. Greenskin bodies exploded as shells found their mark. The Astartes moved out in an assault pattern, their bolters set on a four-round bursts. An Astartes with a flamer sent gouts of fire into the surrounding xenos, smoking them out of their cover. It was a terrifying thing to watch, yet awesome tp sheer martial might of the Astartes. Orks were ruthlessly and efficiently cut down in a hail of bolter fire or gouts of flame. Ork bullets whizzed around the street as the xenos returned fire, a pair of troopers fell, clutching at their wounds. Bullets pinged off the war plate of the Astartes.

A hulking xenos with a two handed cleaver rushed out of the promethium flames, fire licking from it's racks. It bellowed a deep warbling warcry and brought it weapon around in a tight arc at one of the Astartes. The Marine shot it in the head before the blow connected, sending the corpse sprawling back.

In less than thirty seconds it was over.

The Astartes moved among the Orks, kicking corpses as they went and shooting any that moved in the head. A Marine with a flamer set about burning corpses as they went about their grim business of finishing off the notoriously resilient greenskins with grim purpose. Nicanor walked over to Kallor, bolter lowered.

He glanced at Kallor's rank stripes. ''Captain, There seems to be an ork infestation behind our lines, we will be borrowing your Chimeras _now._'' he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Kallor took in a breath''Sergeant Nicanor I-'' a burst of static interrupted him. Kallor checked his vox-bead at his uniform collar. Hurriedly he spoke into it, his face growing pale as he did so. Ramsen figured it was probably not good news at all. Kallor looked up at Nicanor who was already turning around.

''Sergeant, a group of orks has attacked the station Alpha-Eight two miles north of here.'' Kallor pointed into the distance, pointing out the tall series of buildings. Antenna stretched out from the rooftops as the buildings towered over the other warehouses in the district.

''And what is that?'' Nicanor asked.

''It's the power center for the city defense guns and communications, if the orks take that out the PDF and Guard units are going to be thrown into anarchy, there will be nothing, the central vox channels will be gone along with our automated wall defense guns.'' Kallor said hurriedly.

''My unit and your men are the nearest ones, everyone else to my knowledge is tied up with orks. Please, I need you to take the place back.'' Kallor said, his face drawn with panic and fear.

Nicanor gazed at him for a moment before turning to to Ramsen.

''You will come with my squad and guide us.'' he growled out. He looked back at Kallor.

''We are taking your ride.'' with that the Sergeant turned around, Ramsen hurried after him as the Astartes filed into the Chimera, leaning over heavily to fit in the troopspace, he scurried in, trapped between two white-armored giants as the door closed.

* * *

Nicanor had seen Kallor's type before, rich brats securing military positions through their parents influence. That would have never happened on Orpheus. The world had prospered under the strict rule of the Praetors in accordance to the ancient ideals of Guilliman. Self-sacrifice, honor and loyalty were expected by all citizens. You reached your rank by hard work and skill, not by nepotism and bribery. Nicanor had smelt Kallor's sweat and feat when the orks attacked and when he had received the news. The Astartes Sergeant shook his head silently. Is this the PDF of this world? He thought Nicanor had fought alongside real Guardsmen, Cadian Shock and Vostroyans, those were honorable men of steel that the Astartes could proudly call allies. These backwater PDF were sheep by comparison.

Ceranus had argued that they proceed on to the rest of the company. Nicanor had been expecting that from him. He knew his brother too well.

''Brother'' he had said over a private vox channel as the Praetors boarded the Chimera. ''We don't have to do this, we should not do it'' he continued firmly.

''I don't want to hear complaints about this, the station in the lynchpin to the Guard defense here'' he had said in response.

''Then let the Guard and PDF stand for themselves.''

''The Guard are stretched thin helping the rest of the city and I don't expected the Yaltoi PDF to do much of anything.'' Nicanor explained.

''But this is clearly a waste-''

''I thought I said I wanted no more talk about this,'' Nicanor said again, his voice quiet but sharp and full of authority. ''Ceranus I want three days of fasting and penitence when we return to the strike cruiser in penance for insubordination'.'

His brother bowed his helmeted head slightly, servos whirling. ''My apologies Brother-Sergant.''

The City Watch trooper that had followed after them was seated between him and Apion. It occurred faintly to Nicanor that he did not know the man's name at all. But that was not something he particularly cared to know about, he himself did not even know the PDF officer's name either.

''Poor luck Apion'' Daecus voxed over the channel.

''Are you jealous'' Apion retorted. There was a short guffaw at the end of the line.

''Um...'' the mortal looked about.

''I am Ramsen,'' he offered. ''Corporal Ramsen, Sergeant Nicanor, I'm afraid I didn't quite catch the names of everyone else. I-uh, don't know much about Astartes protocol.'' he commented.

Nicanor studied the man. He was clearly trying to stay casual as possible for some reason.

''Astartes protocol is quite simple mortal'' Ceranus said, emphasizing the last bit as he leaned in close, green visor staring into the man's brown eyes.

''Very simple, don't get in our way'' he told the mortal. Lukias caught Ceranus in the shoulder guard lightly and turned to Ramsen.

''Just cooperate and you will hopefully live to see the day'' Lukias continued.

''I see'' the mortal nodded hesitantly. ''I'm afraid I don't know your names still-''

''-Apion'' the young Astartes said. ''My name is Apion of the Praetors of Orpheus'' he said. Even though the distortion of his helmet vox he sounded amused.

''Lukias'' Lukias nodded briefly in Ramsen's direction.

One by one all of the Praetors, including Ceranus, gave their names, although Ceranus was the last of them all to give his name, and only with a certain resignation.

''I see,'' Ramsen was clearly not though. He looked at Nicanor who stared back. ''You clearly are not used to a Chimera I can see.''

It was true, the Praetors were forced to almost bend over as far as they could in their power armor to accommodate the cramped conditions of the Chimera transport bay. Ramsen himself was practically squashed between Nicanor and Apion, almost having to turn sideways to fit between the power-armored bulk of the Astartes.

Nicanor shifted his position a bit.

''You could say that.'' he said.

''A Rhino is still better.'' muttered Morovian.

After a few minutes of travel through the chaotic streets of Yaltoi Port, the Chimera finally came to a stop. The hatch fell down and Nicanor had not been more relived to exit the Chimera. The vehicle was serviceable enough but he far preferred a Rhino for his use. He was third out, right after Apion and Ramsen.

The main building rose up several buildings, the gates in front broken by some sort of explosive. A pair of PDF guards lay dead on the ground, throats slit by some sort of knife. Ramsen wondered how the orks somehow managed to be so subtle considering what he had heard in stories before. Oh well, he shrugged, you can't always believe everything.

Nicanor studied the corpses for a moment before turning to his squad. Their was a faint click and Ramsen assumed he opened a private channel of some sort to the rest of the Praetors, apparently issuing assault orders for his team.

Then he turned to Ramsen.

''Corporal Ramsen,'' the war-giant's voice was cold and indifferent. ''I suggest you stay here and keep the engines running.''

''No.'' Ramsen replied, surprised at what he said.

''Oh?'' Nicanor's voice sounded almost...amused at this.

''This is my city... my world.'' Ramsen stated out slowly, feeling trepidation built up in his gut. He had never imagined he would be disagreed with a space marine.

''I want to fight for it, just as much as you do.'' he finished, watching the marine. He studied the blank helmet, wondering if Nicanor would get angry, or simply just ignore him.

After a few seconds the sergeant replied.

''Fine,'' he looked away from Ramsen. ''We are going in a Codex Astartes urban assault pattern, all you need to know is stay behind us and do not get in our way, is that clear?'' he asked.

''_Crystal_.'' Ramsen said as he followed the Praetors in.

* * *

Nicanor nominated Apion to take point while he and Morovian came right behind. With the rest of the Squad behind them. Apion kicked down the broken remnants of a door and headed in, flamer readied as he swept around inside a wide broken entrance lobby. As Nicanor entered he noted the butchered bodies of PDF guards and strewn furniture, judging from the sorchmarks and the smell of blood the firefight here could not have occurred too long ago. Nicanor listed and picked up the grunting sounds of orks in the distance as they spread out rampaging, all thoughts of stealth now gone. He signaled Second Squad to continue.

Contact was made a few moments later.

Several orks came rounding around a hallway, brawny arms full of pilfered Imperial weapons bloodied trophies. Apion's flamer responded, setting the first ork kommando's alight in a bright configuration of promethium. The xenos roared as the flames consumed them;

Other orks took positions in alcoves and behind upturned tables, firing their weapons at the advancing Astartes. Runes flashed across Nicanor's visor as his armor register the impacts and locked in to the malformed faces of the orks behind their cover. His bolter spoke three times.

Then something roared and dropped through the ceiling. Nicanor only caught it's movements at the last minute as huge cleaver came down upon his shoulder guard, driving through the ceramite plate halfway. Pain briefly hit his nerves before his armor began to pump combat stimms. He reached up, one armored gauntlet searching for the ork's throat. The xenos was smaller than many of it's kind, but still bigger than any man. It's ugly face hawked saliva at his visor even as Nicanor punched it in the chest, sending it flying back.

As it attempted to rise the Sergeant shot it in the head, blowing it's bloodied corpse back.

''For Guilliman! Purge the xeno-freaks!'' he roared, turning his vox-caster on maximum.

''For Guilliman!'' his squad answered.

* * *

Combat with the orks was not what he expected. This was not the glorious tales of the Angels of Death that the preachers set out. It was harsh, loud and ugly. There was the smell of ork blood mixed in with the hate-filled battlecries of the Praetors and the ever-present roar of the bolters. Ramsen added shots wherever he could, but he was careful not to get out form behind the armored bulk of the Astartes. Orks attempted to ambush them in the corridors, firing at the Astartes with crude bolters or charging with cleavers. The Praetors cut them down with relentless waves of bolter fire or with combat blades. The entire floor was littered with corpses torn apart by ork blades and gunfire. They were all in the uniform of the Yaltoi PDF.

During a brief lull in the fighting Ramsen stopped at the bloodied body of an officer and noted an ornate sword at his side. It was a gold-chased saber with intricate circuitry covering the hilt and pommel. Ramsen studied it for a moment before realizing what it was.

A power weapon. He had heard of them but had not seen one. Hesitantly he took it out from the officer's sash, feeling rather guilty about doing so, but the sword was going to be better at close quarters than he combat knife. Briefly he thought if the Astartes might have wanted it but he dismissed the notion, the sword did not look like it would fit effectively in their bulky gauntlets.

''Sorry.'' he said to the officer's corpse, his sense of personal safety overriding his same at looting.

Up ahead he heard footsteps and saw the Astartes moving again. Swearing briefly under his breath he ran after them.

* * *

After three straight minutes of combat Second Squad came to the rear stations.

It was a huge room, thirty meters long and twenty wide. Rows of plasma conductors and hydro-energy regulators stood in massive stacks row by row along with enginerium consoles. This is were the orbital and communications system was powered. Any stray shot hitting these walls would set off an explosion and cut off the power.

In other words no guns.

''Blades only from here on.'' Nicanor ordered.

Apion grumbled as he stowed away his flamer. Then as one, the entire Second Squad drew their blades. Each was a silver-hilted monomolecular gladius. The blades glinted in the artificial lighting of the room.

Nicanor did not draw a gladius. Instead he drew a long-bladed sword from his mag-link at his belt. It was a broadsword with the hilt fashioned into a silver cross. With a single press of the power stud the blade's silver length was sheathed in crackling blue energy. Nicanor looked upon the blade with relish.

Then the orks attacked.

Green forms charged at them around engines, the greenskins using the cover to hide their approach until they pounced out. It was a good tactic, distinctly usual of them. However it did them no good. The Praetors auto-senses easily picked up their breathing and smells. The first ork that came at Nicanor, cleaver raised for a swing. It's technique was crude, but based more off brute strength than any real aim. Nicanor's power sword cut through the blade at the hilt and traveled onward to meet the ork's neck, beheading the surprised alien.

The Praetors dove into the coming orks, gladius's flashing. Nicanor's power sword led the charge, blade severing heads and limbs with equal ease as orkish cleavers and chainblades carved furrows into his brothers' armor. But in the end it was a forgone conclusion. As his power sword hacked down the last ork Nicanor grimaced briefly before shifting his arm again, feeling a small spike of pain from were an ork blade has partially collapsed the joint, drawing in a deep wound. He transferred his blade to his other arm as he brothers finished off the wounded orks.

Then he realized their was something wrong.

He heard a pig-like snorting, somewhere in the deeper engine rows. He quietly cursed. They had missed one and it had gotten deeper into the plasma reactors. He strode rapidly down one corridor in time to hear a sudden sharp scream.

It was the mortal.

* * *

When the orks came out, bellowing their warbling bestial warcries Ramsen was content to stay back and let the Astartes handle it. He watched as they drew shining combat blades and their Sergeant whip out a blazing power sword. Except his sword was larger, a broadsword compared to the saber that Ramsen had pilfered.

Watching them cleave into the orks was just as impressive a sight as them mowing down the aliens. The Praetors fought with cold, calculated skill, a counterpoint to the brute charge of the greenskins. It was a forgone conclusion.

And the, in the distance Ramsen saw a shape

It was hard to see, Ramsen missed it on first look. But looking deeper in he saw that it was some sort of ork moving rapidly away from the battle for some reason. Ramsen cursed. That can't possible be good, looking about he saw the Astartes sill engaged with the screaming jade aliens.

He leapt through a small gap in the engines and moved as stealthy as he could, drawing on all his childhood experiences of playing in the local junkyards and backally houses. Ahead be saw brief flashes of green flesh and garish camouflage. Behind him the sounds of battle started to grow quieter. The Astartes war-cries began to grow dimmer and dimmer along with the alien screams of war. He briefly tripped and bit back a curse, hoping the ork had not heard it.

Ahead he stepped around a corner, watching the back of an ork peer over a large set of hydro-exchangers connected to a plasma engine. It wore some sort of large-lensed goggle set over it's head and it wore a variety of strange devices and xenotech bits. Looking closer he saw the ork tinkering with some sort of blinking device. After several tense seconds Ramsen realized it was some sort of xenos bomb. It's going to blow this place and kill us all, Ramsen thought with horror. It was chortling as it worked, laughing in some alien tongue.

This could not happen, he thought, he would not allow it to happen.

His hands reached towards his power saber and he held it awkwardly, he did not want to risk a las-shot so close to the bomb and hydro exchangers. It would have to be with a blade, he thought, cursing the face he had little experience with swords. Still how hard could it be? Turn on the power stud and swing.

He pressed the stud and ran, lighting appearing on the power sword as he swing the blade with two hands towards the greenskin. The ork saboteur heard him come and began to whirl around, one arm lashing out. The saber flashed down, severing the arm at the elbow. Black blood trickled from the burning stump.. The ork saboteur stumbled back, caught off guard.

_That's it you xenos freak, this is my city, my world_, Ramsen thought triumphantly. He raised the blade again for another strike.

That's when the ork stabbed him through the chest with a cleaver.

He had made a mistake. He gotten too confident, fighting the ork with a weapon he was unfamiliar with. Ramsen's blade fell from his nerveless hands with a sudden shock and he screamed as the ork laughed.

* * *

Nicanor appeared around the corner, moving as fast as he could, power sword flaring. In front of him was a one-armed ork saboteur clad in various grenades and mechanical devices. Impaled on it's cleaver was the bloodied form of Ramsen.

The trooper's mouth was open, blood streaming out in a thin trickle from his mouth, brown eyes bulging out, his arms hung limply by his sides. Nicanor did not hesitate as he dove forward, blade flashing as the ork looked around.

The greenskins' head rolled to the floor, the ork's red eyes still wide with surprise under it's goggles.

The ork's body collapsed to the floor and Nicanor wondered exactly why the trooper had slipped away form the protection of the Praetors, then he saw the unactivated bomb and the sword lying on the ground and then he suddenly understood exactly what happened.

He knelt down next to Ramsen, gently trying to extract the cleaver from the ork's grip as best he could. It was a death wound. Nicanor had seen too many men die on different battlefields to know that Ramsen was going to perish within minutes. Behind him Lukias and Ceranus came up, leading the rest of Squad Nicanor. Morovian and Severus spread out to reconnoiter the place for more orks and Ceranus ripped out the blinking xenos bomb from were it was and deactivated it.

''That's finished.'' Ceranus said with relish. He turned to look at Ramsen, helmet dipping. ''So fragile.''

''Silence Ceranus, the mortal speaks.'' Lukias held up a hand.

Ramsen stared at him blankly, eyes slowly blinking.

''Nicanor?'' he said hesitantly.

''I'm sorry, you are going to see the Emperor soon.'' Nicanor said, unsure of how to comfort a dying mortal. He had no experience. With the Praetors, death was to be expected, comforting his brothers over the deaths of their comrades was not an issue.

But this...in this Nicanor felt out of his element. It was not a good feeling.

'It's fine...stupid thing, wanted to be a hero...'' Ramsen smiled.

''You will be celebrated. I swear by Guilliman.'' Nicanor assured him, his voice cosign out flat due to his vox-caster.

''Your face...never seen your face...'' he mumbled off.

Nicanor considered it for a second. He had little reason to remove his helm for a mortal not of his chapter. He had little reason to remove his helm for a mortal he had known for less than an hour. There was no logical reason why he should humor him.

But yet...

* * *

Ramsen felt little pain now.

Were their was once white hot pain from the ork blade, he felt little now. He had heard stories about dying feeling peaceful, or something like that. But he had never but any stock into it. He coughed up some extra blood. In front of him the crimson-painted helm disengaged from the neck seals with a hiss. The helm was lifted, revealing pale, broad features with an aquiline nose and a noble jaw structure. The face had gray-blue eyes and short dark hair cropped close to the skull. Two gleaming silver studs were set into the left brow.

The helm was set to the side gentle and the eyes blinked. They looked at him with a sort of alien curiosity, as if fear and pain held little meaning for him. They were much like a child's, Ramsen realized. It was like looking into the face of an angel with a child's eyes.

''So that's what you look like...''

Ramsen smiled as the angel's face faded away.

* * *

Outside the central Yaltoi power station the towering form of Nicanor strode out, helm secured on once more. Behind him Lukias, Apion and Ceranus filed out. The rest of his squad was finishing up their patrol of the surrounding area. In front of the building were a pair of freshly parked Chimeras. Groups of PDF men rushed out, lasguns at ready. From one of the Chimeras stepped out the form of Captain Kallor who walked over to the Sergeant.

''Sergeant Nicanor,'' he said. ''I'm afraid I arrived too late with reinforcements, the civilians too longer than anticipated.'' he explained.

Nicanor cared little for the Captain's explanations. He looked down.

''What is your name?'' he asked.

Kallor blinked. ''Pardon me?''

''I never caught your name.'' Nicanor informed him.

''I am Argitus Kallor of the most noble house of Kallor, heir to the lands of Fara-'' he began.

''I don't care,'' Nicanor interrupted him rudely. ''Captain Kallor, Corporal Ramsen is dead.'' he said flatly.

''A pity then, he was a fairly good man, but replaceable all the same.'' Kallor shrugged.

''He saved my squad and this entire city by extension. He is a hero. The Chapter owes him a debt. I will be mentioning him with the highest of praises in my report to Captain Arteus'' Nicanor spoke, his helm dipping down in a whine of servos.

''I suggest you do the same with your superiors.'' without waiting for a reply Nicanor walked off into the distance.


	2. Hydra

Author's Notes: This is the second of my short stories. Thanks to all that reviewed. I deeply appreciate the comments.

Reviews and Comments are all welcome.

**Hydra**

* * *

_I am Varion Nicanor._

_Child of Orpheus. Son of Guilliman_

_Now I come to Gallat. A world two weeks away by warp travel from Yaltoi. Scarcely hours after the victory-pyres at that world the Third Company received a message from the Mechanicus at Gallat. The world was is a manufactorum world, it's not a true forge world but a world that boasted several Mechanicus bases on the surface. The world was engulfed by rebellion. Dozens of cults had erupted all over the world and the Arbites struggled to contain the cults along with the PDF and the agents of the Ordo Hereticus. Regiments of Vostroyan Imperial Guard had aslo been brought into restore order. It seemed to be going well._

_That was until a symbol had been discovered._

_It had been a small thing, discovered on a single body after the Arbites stormed an underground cult-base. A single green tattoo, found on the body of a high-ranking cultist leader. The tattoo was that of a multi-headed hydra._

_The Alpha Legion._

_If the XX Legion was truly present on this world then the Praetors of Guilliman were required to deal with them. The Mechanicus were unsettled by news of Traitor Legion activity and made appeals to the Chapter. We are close allies of the Mechanicus. A relationship we do not bother to disguise. Some of our brother Astartes disdain us for it, but I care little. We embrace the technologies of humanity as a boon, not superstition._

_If the misbegotten sons of Alpharius are here on this world then I relish the chance to fight them. All of the Praetors know of the treachery. We know of how Guilliman generously tried to give aid to his brother, and yet was denied in Alpharius's arrogance. That same pride led Alpharius to cast his lot with the gods of Chaos._

_His sons are a stain upon the honor of the Astartes. We will rectify that mistake._

_However when we land on this world we find no Traitors. Or perhaps it would be better to say we find no traitor Astartes, for treacherous souls are found aplenty here. We land, purging centers of cult activity, redeploying and striking at the cultists as they launch assaults on the mag-rails and factories._

_But no Alpha Legion._

_Now Captain Atreus had received word from Mechanicus research base Beta-6. They have been detecting cult activity in the Varnus townships and there is reports of sedation among their serf-workers. Magos Carnus requests that we come and put the fear of the Emperor into the rebels. Atreus briefs my squad, knowing we are still understrength, and gives us this mission. It is an easy one and I know it. On one level I feel almost insulted at killing deluded cultists while my lord hunts for the enemy Astartes. But I know of my chapter's commitment to the Mechanicus._

_I obey._

* * *

The _Blade of O__rpheus_ screamed through the howling snowstorm, thrusters burning as it centered in on it's destination. Deep in the heart of the vehicle Varion Nicanor sat, his power pack removed. Coming straight from the Thunderhawk where cables snaking into his power armor.

It felt lighter without his power pack. It was not an unpleasant feeling, merely a strange one. He had experienced it many times before when traveling by Thunderhawk, but each time it felt new and unfamiliar despite that.

Around him the rest of his squad was silently preparing their weapons or talking quietly amongst themselves. Their helmets were off, showing the bare features of each Astartes to the world. Lukias's classically handsome features were still as he polished his combat knife. Ceranus's broad, scarred features were creased deep in thought as he added another purity seal. Daecus's face was hawkish and predatory, his white teeth showing as he joked quietly with Apion's youthful smile. Morovian's scalp was completely shaved, with a omega tattoo on his forehead. Severus's features were tight and emotionless, while Dakias finished field-stripping his bolter once more.

However there was one occupant whose' face was still obscured.

Chaplain Iapetos sat, his face masked by the white skull-helm he wore. His armor was black and polished. One shoulder and arm was painted white and blue. Attached to his shoulder guards were purity scripts fixed by red wax seals. Passages from the Codex Astartes were carved into his chestplate. The Chaplain's war-plate was ancient, truly ancient. Others before him had worn it for millenia, all the way back to the days of the Horus Heresy. It was ornate and beautifully forged. Impressive and fearsome at the same time.

His crozius was at his side. At the haft was the name of the weapon. _Purgator_.

The weapon was as much a chapter relic as a tool of war. It had been wielded by the earliest Chaplain of the Ultramarines Legion against the Word Bearers on Calth and by the Praetors when they had first been formed in the aftermath of the Scouring. It felt good to have the Chaplain here. Nicanor knew Iapetos well. He had fought alongside the Chaplain before and trusted his squad under the faith and leadership of his brother. He had little worried about the mission coming up.

Up ahead, in the cockpit was Techmarine Aeton. As the Second Squad had been sent to Beta-8 having one of the chapter's tech-adepts come along had been a natural choice to accompany them when they met the Mechanicus.

Something came over the vox-com

''Brother-Sergeant, Brother-Chaplain, there is something strange up ahead that the Thunderhawk's sensors have detected.'' the voice of Aeton is controlled, emotionless.

Nicanor presses a rune, disconnecting his power cables. His power pack slides in and connects. Instantly the false-muscles of his suit tighten up and link with him. Beside him, Chaplain Iapetos did the same action.

''Something wrong Brother-Sergeant?'' Ceranus asks.

''We'll see.'' Nicanor nodded and followed the Chaplain to the main cockpit.

The Thunderhawk's cockpit swiftly becomes crowded as Nicanor and Iapetos take their place next to Techmarine Aeton and pilot Menos. The cockpit is a confusing mess of sensors, data-screen, runes and controls. Aeton did not have his servo-harness on, looking curiously incomplete without it.

Aeton turns to him, his crimson helmet nodding as he points to the sensors. Nicanor nodded and read the lines of sensory data as a set of schematics were brought up.

''A Rhino.'' Iapetos said, his voice deep and cold, like the snowstorm outside.

''It's broken down, our sensors indicate weapons damage.'' Aeton says. His voice is cold and mechanical, but in a different way. There is no warmth, but no biting edge like with Iapetos. Only an utter absence of feeling.

''What is a Rhino doing out here?'' Nicanor asked.

''It must be the Magos's Rhino, only the Magos possesses a Rhino at Beta-8. The rest of the base utilizes local trucks or Chimeras.'' Aeton answered.

''If it is out here then something is wrong at the base, when have we last contacted the base?'' Iapetos asked.

''Eleven hours ago, we departed three hours ago, I was about to contact them when we detected the Rhino.'' Aeton answered.

''Then we should not, something is wrong, terribly wrong, do we detect any life forms?'' Nicanor asked.

''One,'' Aeton indicated the screen. ''Just one.''

Nicanor studied it for movement before turning to Menos. The pilot was not clad in power armor, but a flight-suit with cables connecting into the Thunderhawk paneling itself. His right eye was a bionic replacement.

''Take us down.'' he commanded.

Nicanor stepped outside, his helmet on. Although he did not need it in the cold. His gene-boosted Astartes body could handle the cold without any real trouble. But it paid to take precautions regardless. Next to him came the form of Aeton, servo-harness on once more. Next to him was Lukias, also fully clad in armor. The Thunderhawk had set down twenty meters from the Rhino. With his visor and gene-boosted vision Nicanor could see the symbol of the Cult Mechanicus on one side. Even through the coat of snow Nicanor could detect the abrasion and marks of weapons damage.

''It looks bad Brother-Sergant,'' Lukias siad. ''You must hate this sight eh Aeton?'' he commented.

''You are correct.'' Aeton replied curtly.

''As expected,'' Lukias muttered, looking over the Rhino. ''What do you think sir?''

''Lasguns?'' Nicanor offered.

''Lasguns, definitely, along with a grenade or two, someone was running away from soldiers.'' Lukias summarized. ''The question is...who?''

''We are about to find out.''

Aeton arrived there first as he inspected the Rhino briefly. Quickly he tried to side doors, only to find them locked. Then Lukias inspected the rear landing ramp. It was also locked. Aeton mentioned them back. Muttering a prayer of forgiveness to the machine spirit, Aeton's servo arms tore off the locked door with two swift twists. Nicanor stepped in, bolt pistol at ready. The familiar troop bay was empty with no signs of life. Nicanor crossed to the driving compartment and opened up the door.

Something stared at him, shivering in the cold. It was a female face within a red hood. A pistol pointed at him briefly, shaking so much that Nicanor doubted that she would be able to hit him at all. He stepped inside.

He paused for a moment, unsure what to say. Finally, after a few seconds he spoke, his vox-assisted voice resounding in the innards of the Rhino.

''I am Nicanor, Son of Guilliman, come with me.''

* * *

Valeria say within the Praetor's Thunderhawk, hugging the heater close to her, her breath coming out as white mist in front of her. She was in some sort of briefing area in the Thunderhawk. In front of her three armored giants stood. She recognized their heraldry of course. The starburst shield on their should guards were known to every Mechanicus Adept in this sector. The legacy of the Praetors of Orpheus was a long one and well appreciated by the Mechanicus.

It was an almost a cruel joke to see these Astartes after what she had experienced. But she was glad to see them. She had heard that the Praetors were on Gallat from Magos Carnus, but she had never expected to see them in person. When she had driven that Rhino to escape from the cultists she had expected to die in the snowstorm, Not to be intercepted by the Praetors. It was intimidating to say the least. She knew the Praetors were sworn allies of the Mechanicus and had worked closely with them in the past, but she had never met an Astartes before. She was human enough to feel intimidated. However one one was a Techmarine, and thus was a fellow initiate of the Machine God, his presence comforted her more.

''Hello.'' she started hesitantly, rather unsure how to happen.

''What is your name?'' the one in white armor asked her.

''Cas Valeria'' she answered. She was not one of the more advanced tech-priests. She had just started on her holy augmentations. Unlike her master who was far more blessed than she with the gaze of the Omnissiah. Thus she had emotions. Right now she felt a sudden rude shock at the Praetor's bluntness.

''I am a Tech-Adept to Magos Rael Carnus of the Beta-8 Research base.'' he continued. She looked up at them.

''Please, you have to come and retake the base'' she choked out, hugging the heating unit closer. She still felt cold to her bones. Her own thermal robe was unprepared for the particularly freezing snowstorm out there.

''Retake?' the skull-helmed Astartes said. ''What do you mean?'' he continued. The Astartes sounded almost...surprised.

''The cultists, six hours ago they came, infiltrating through the lower ducts, taking the Skitarii off guard. They were led by Chaos Astartes. Omnisaiah help me, green giants with snakes on their shoulder guards. It was the XX Legion. They slaughtered everything'' she explained, his voice choked with pain.

She saw the skull-helmed giant glance at the other two briefly.

''Continue'' he said in a cold clipped tone.

''We had thought that the cultist activity was confined to the Varnus districts. We had never expected them to be so bold as to strike at us directly. But then again we never thought they had Chaos Marines leading them.'' she chuckled bitterly.

She took a breath again. ''Magos Carnus told me to get escape, to get help, the cultists had jammed the communications somehow. He gave me the codes to his Rhino and sent me off. They came for him, I know it.'' she continued, remembering what had so recently happened.

''The Magos?'' asked the white and blue armored one.

''My master...my master calculated a ninety-six point eight chance they were here for the logic engines. They continued encrypted information, protected by firewalls.'' she took another deep breath. ''My master was the only one who knew the codes, they would have had to extract the information from him in order to get past the logic engine firewalls.''

''So they are still there?'' the central marine asked.

''Yes...He's he's-'' her voice broke. ''We have to rescue him, and kill the heretics.'' she said, her voice hard.

She heard a series of almost silent clicking sounds as the Astartes opened up private vox-channels, conversing with themselves. Finally the central one stepped forward.

''What is the strength of the enemy?'' he asked.

''We detected five Astartes and over a hundred cultists.'' she said, trying to recall the information from the brief, panicked instructions her Master sent her on. The Astartes were silent, absorbing this information.

Then the skull-helmed one spoke up. ''If what you say is true then we face five Astartes and over a hundred cultists. Judging from combat assessments of the Legion's followers, they will be highly trained and well-armed. In addition we have the base defenses-''

''I can disable them!'' she interrupted eagerly. She then quailed as she realized what she just did. ''I mean I know the cods to disable the targeting servitors, you come come in unmolested.'' he said the last part almost quiet;y, afraid that the skull-helmed one would do something.

But he did nothing as the white one stepped forward. ''We don't have the luxury of time them, we must move as fast as possible, we will send a message to our Captain to bring reinforcements but we must move and assault the place, you will be responsible for bringing us in while we confront the bastard sons of Alpharius.'' hatred filled his vox as he spoke those last words.

''I will.'' she said with relish. Anything for a chance at vengeance. Then she realized something.

''What are your names?''

* * *

''You are coming with me.'' Nicanor told Valeria.

After introducing themselves to the young Tech-Adept he had contacted Atreus. The Captain was satisfied that the Alpha Legion had been found and was preparing his owns force's Thunderhawks. However he ordered them into an immediate assault.

''The Magos's information,'' he had said. ''Must not fall into enemy hands, regardless of the cost.''

And so Nicanor had prepared his squad for the assault. Lukias led his brothers with their weapons preparations while Iapetos read outloud passages from the Liber Orpheus, chronicling the battles of their Primarch, Roboute Guilliman.

As for the girl he had taken her aside and made his concerns known.

''You are coming with me.'' he said bluntly. He figured he might as well get the information out soon.

''Excuse me?'' she asked in a surprised tone. Nicanor was not exactly skilled at reading human emotion. But even he could see she was annoyed.

''Did you not hear me correctly?'' he asked her again, calmly.

''No, no. I heard you correctly, I just don't see why. I am not a fighter. I just have this hellpistol for defense.'' she showed him the weapon. It was a Kantrael MK8hellpistol, ornately detailed with High Gothic inscriptions.

''Where did you get that?'' he asked.

''I took it from the Armory before I left. My master's personal bodyguards wielded weapons like these'' Valeria explained. Nicanor studied the weapon and nodded.

''Good, at least you will be armed then when we depart-'' he started again.

''Why do I have to go?'' she asked in and almost... panicked tone. She clearly did not want to leave the Thunderhawk. It was a sentiment Nicanor was unable to identify with. Why would anyone not want to bring death to the faithless traitors of mankind?

''I mean I've already provided the codes to shut down the anti-air defense, you don't need me anymore.'' she continued.

''Wrong,'' he rumbled. ''You know the base's layout. We need a guide to figure out where the Magos is being held captive.'' he leaned forward, almost bending over as his faceplate stared at her.

She gave a short yelp and stumbled back on the floor. Nicanor reached out with one great white gauntlet.

''My apologies. My intention was not to frighten you.'' he stated calmly.

''Oh no,'' Valeria huffed, grasping the gauntlet and pulling herself up. Nicanor barely felt the woman tugging up. ''It's just the first time I have ever meant an Astartes. I've heard so much about you.'' she looked up at him.

'I suppose I'm nervous then, a weakness of the flesh my Master would say.'' she commented.

''Surprise is not a weakness.'' Nicanor responded.

''I suppose your right, you must try news things right?'' Valeria chuckled a bit.

Nicanor had no answer for that.

After a few moments of awkward silence passed Valeria spoke again.

''You will protect me right? You and your brothers?'' she asked hopefully.

''Of course.''

* * *

Nicanor came to the main deck of the Thunderhawk, all of his squad brothers had their heads bowed to Chaplain Iapetos. Aeton was still in the cockpit piloting the course and entering the codes to turn aside the base's aerial defenses.

Lukias looked up at him. ''We are ready for our oaths sir.'' he said.

''Such a small thing they brought in.'' said Daecus to Ceranus.

''Hardly our most worthy ally, I suspect her age to be less than thirty.'' he replied.

''Too young or too early for the more advanced bionics?'' Daecus asked.

''Too early,'' Ceranus agreed. '' I don't mean to sound petulant, but it's annoying to escort such a mouse.''

''She is the first off-world tech-adept I have met'' Apion commented softly. ''I don't think so badly of her''

''Yes, you are the one to speak with your great knowledge of the Mechanicus.'' snorted Daecus sarcasticly.

''Enough,'' Nicanor said. ''We will take your oaths.''

Iapetos rose and took out a small vial of oils from his belt. Unscrewing the top he started the Oaths.

''I, Chaplain of the Emperor ask you, who are you?'' the began, his skull mask frozen in a rictus grin.

''We are the Sons of Orpheus.'' Squad Nicanor responded, their voices powerful and deep.

''Who is your father?'' The chaplain asked, anointing the forehead of each Marine with the holy oils.

''Roboute Guilliman is our father.'' they intoned together.

''Who teaches us?''

''The Codex Astartes.''

''Who guides us?''

''Guilliman and his father.''

''Who do we fight for?'' Iapetos boomed.

''The Emperor on Terra.''

''Who do we serve?'' Iapetos intoned.

_''Our Lord-Emperor.'' _the squad responded.

The Oaths continued on for another three minutes as the Thunderhawk howled through the air. Oaths of loyalty were sworn and renewed along with oaths and promises of vengeance against the vile traitor-kin of the Praetors.

* * *

Valeria ran out of the Thunderhawk after the Astartes as the ramp dropped into the snow. Up ahead, the Astartes called Lukias and Dakias took point and fanned out, bolters tracking back and forth as they searched the area for threats.

There was none.

Nearby she moved up to the Astartes named Morovian. Nicanor had essentially told her to stick to the hulking Astartes brother for her own safety. Morovian barely spoke expect to tell her simply to stay behind him. The Chaplain was there too, clutching his crozius, as well as the Techmarine, in full war-harness and wielding a cog-toothed power axe.

They had landed in front of one of the rear access points that Valeria had identified. Nicanor had elected against landing on the landing pads, in case of a booby trap of some sort. Here he reasoned it would be safer.

The building in front of here was just as she remembered it, rising up dozens of feet into the air. It was a collection of insulated domes and buildings in as high valley that overlooked the Vardus communes below. It was like some sort of castle lording it over the peasants below. She shivered as the freezing winds bit into her bones even through her thick insulted red cloak. She glanced around, the Astartes appeared to not even notice the cold. In front of her, half-obscured by snow, was a pair of blast doors marked by the cog-skull symbol of the Mechanicus and a series of warnings in Low Gothic. Aeton moved quickly to the doors, his armor creating a series of soft whining noises and clicks.

Two servo arms extended from his back and a data-thief jutted out. Aeton removed the side panel and plunged in the data-thief, inter-linking with the door's machine spirit. Aeton briefly shuddered as his neural implants linked him in.

After a few moments the doors opened and the Techmarine withdrew the data-thief. He stepped to the side as Apion and Dakias moved past, taking point at a short clipped order from Nicanor, the rest of the squad filed in.

''This is were it begins, stay close to me.'' Morovian said to her, turning his grill-mouthed helm towards her briefly. She nodded quickly and clutched her hellpistol in one shivered hand as she hurried in with the Astartes into the warmth of the base.

The doors closed inches behind her, barely missing the hem of her red robe. Ahead of her the Astartes moved quickly and with a ground eating stride that forced Valeria to virtually run in order to properly keep up.

They encountered the first cultists a few moments later.

* * *

The central data chamber was a wide circular platform, hosted above dozens of feet of data stacks and plasma regulators. A system of pillars and stairs criss-crossed and connected the central platform to the exit hallways. In the center Magos Carnus lay strapped and bound to the observation chair, his combat implants and servo arms ripped out. The hood of his red robe was thrown back, exposing his gleaming chrome skull and augmetic face.

Zerathras of the Alpha Legion watched disappointingly as his Brother Malathrax extended writhing silver data-plugs from his gauntlets and into the rear neural links of the Magos, linking his mind with the Mechanicus priest's own.

''He is fighting, this is the fifth time.'' Malathrax said, his voice low and buzzing like a broken servitor. The Alpha Legionary was a former Techmarine infected with some sort of variant of the Obliterators virus, his unusual abilities made him invaluable for this mission.

Zerathras had led his warrior-brethren to his world ten years ago and spent a long time fostering the local Chaos cults into a force to be reckoned with. After ten years of planning all his work was about to pay off. Zerathras was a tall Chaos Marine, clad in blue-green scale-like power armor. One shoulder guard bore the multi-headed hydra of the Alpha Legion, the rest of his armor was bare of insginia. His helm was off, exposing his shaved tanned features and cold calculating eyes.

Malathraz was clad in blue armor with a silver sheen. Snake-like cables ran across his form, writhing and pulsing as if they were alive. His helm was finished into a gleaming blank faceplate with a multitude of circuitry in the back of his skull. Nearby, Borc, the swordsman, paced back and forth, his skull-trophies jangling across his broad power-armored chest. His horned helm swung back and forth as he made his impatience known. Taes, clad in his skull-faced helm, held his plasma gun reverently. Finally the daemonancer Raetirn was kneeling keeping to himself, his blue-green armor covered in writhing Chaos runes.

One of the doors opened and a man clad in heavy flak armor entered. It was Tomas, the closest thing that the cultists had to a leader. The Alpha Legion encouraged flexible structure in their warriors, allowing their full abilities of innovation and adaptability to come into play. But Tomas was the closet to a permanent leader.

''Speak.'' Zerathras said.

''Sir, we have been breached, a team of loyalist Astartes had moved in and obliterated sentry team four.'' Tomas said.

Zerathras's interest was peaked. ''How so?''

''We've spotted the female tech-priest that managed to escape, I thought her damaged Rhino would get stranded in the storm and she would die.'' Tomas said, sucking in his breath.

''Evidently she did not, can you identify the chapter?'' Zerathas asked.

''Yes sir, it is the Praetors of Orpheus, Second Founding according to our files.'' Tomas said.

''The lapdogs of Guilliman.'' the Alpha Legionary mused. Millennia past Zerathras had witnessed the acts that drove the Alpha Legion from the Imperium. He had always held a dislike for the blindly indoctrinated followers of Guilliman. Now he would get a chance to slay their descendents

''Sir, it was my incompetence that allowed the female tech-priest to escape.'' Tomas said, bowing his head.

If Zerathras was a Word Bearer he would have slain the cultist outright for his failure. But he was a more intelligent sort of Astartes. In the Alpha Legion failures were to be studied and remedied. That was the way of Alpharius.

''We will ruminate on your failure later Tomas, prepare the rest of your teams and launch an ambush,'' Zerathras turned his head to Raetirn. ''Brother prepare your charges, we have a surprise for the Praetors.'' he said, pulling on his serpent helm as he did so.

* * *

Nicanor's power sword was wet with the blood of the Alpha Legion dupes. A las-blast scorched his chestplate, but did little harm. Beside him Lukias fired off a burst from his bolter, blowing the cultists apart. For the most part the cultists were not screaming fanatics, but professional looking soldiers clad in flak armor and wielding lasguns. Looking them over they were trained to the highest Guard standards and well-led.

The Praetors went brought them like a knife through hot butter.

''They are cowards,'' Ceranus sneered. ''For sending their dupes to fight instead of themselves. Alpha Legion scum.'' he snarled.

''They don't deserve to call themselves Astartes.'' added Dakias. The Praetor spotted the form of a cultist feeling around the corner.

''Anyone want that?'' he asked.

''I'm on it.'' Daecus said, running around the corner. A moment later three shots signaled the end of resistance in that corridor.

Nearby Chaplain Iapetos stalked the corridors, crozius wet with the blood of cultists.

_''Alpha Legion! Come and Face me!'' _he shouted, turning his vox-signal up to maximum.

Suddenly something ripped through a nearby wall. Nicanor's lenses polarized the blast even as he identified it as a melta blast. Quickly he realized a meltagun-armed cultist must have been hiding behind one of the walls. _Clever._

But not clever enough.

Energy fields crackled around Iapetos as he clutched at his Rosarius. His skull-helm glared as the surprised cultist standing behind the melted wreck of the wall. The Chaplain leveled his plasma pistol and vaporized him as he turned to run.

''Hmp, that's it?'' he muttered.

Nearby Aeton withdrew his data-thief from a terminal. Nicanor turned to look at him.

''What did you get?'' he asked.

''The place is infested with some sort of daemonic virus.'' surprising Nicanor detected the hint of revulsion in the Tech-Priest's normally ice cold voice. ''The data-corruption centers on the main observation center'' he indicated.

Nicanor turned to Valeria, who was hiding behind behind the bulk of Morovian. He could practically see her terror and nervousness.

''Do you know were that is?'' he asked.

Scared she could only nod hesitantly. She had not even fired her hellpistol yet. Nicanor felt almost disappointed in her for some strange reason.

''Good let's-''

''Brother-Sergeant,'' Lukias's voice came over his vox. _''Servitors.''_

Nicanor whipped his head around. Coming down the hallways were dozens upon dozens of servitors, their metallic arms waving a variety of maintenance tools and improvised weaponry. They walked with a almost feral jerking gait.

''Feral,'' Valeria whispered. ''The heretics have done something... something to servitor's programs.''

Nicanor looked upon this new foe dispassionately.

''It matters not, were are they coming from?'' he asked Valeria.

''The servitor bay, that way.'' she pointed..

Nicanor nodded. ''Then we will cut of that source there and proceed on, Chaplain Iapetos, Apion, would you do the honors?'' he asked.

''With pleasure brother.'' Apion aimed his flamer and aimed a great burst of promethium that tore through the corridor. Flesh was engulfed in blazing promethium and metal limbs fused together in the great blaze.

''Praetors of Orpheus, move out.'' Nicanor commanded.

* * *

They reached the servitor bay three minutes later.

Nicanor's sword was once more caked with blood, this time the flat blood and machine oils of the servitors. Every step the Praetors fought their seemed to be an endless tide of servitor slaves. They were very poorly armed and attacked with little skill. It was more of a chore really than an actual fight. Behind them Valeria cowered behind Morovian's bulk.

At last they came to the servitor-chamber.

It was a massive room, thirty meters wide and many more long. Ranks of servitors were being unloaded from their holding crates and down where they marched jerkily out to he doors. Hundreds more were laying inactive in more crates. Nicanor nodded to Apion and he let his flamer lose on the dormant servitors, roasting countless inactive cybernetic serfs. Chaplain Iapetos strode forward, crozius flashing as he tore into the servitors in front of him. Aeton and Nicanor followed with their own weapons.

It was almost an insult, Nicanor thought. These servitors are mindless automatons. They feel no pain or fear, but fight with no skill or strength. He cut them down like a farmer harvesting argi-wheat. He hardly had to work.

Then he heard words. Foul words.

Several servitors at the end of the crates began to write and moan. Looking closer with his gene-boosted vision Nicanor saw these servitors covered in strange markings, like hastily applied tattoos. Blood and oils burst as the servitors simply began to explode. Within the puddles of gore shapes began to form.

He saw skins of shadows and eyes of blood. Smoky, black things appeared. _Daemons._

''Alpha Legion!'' Apion roared as Nicanor spotted the figure. It was an Astartes, but some sort of twisted parody of the Praetors. It's power armor was a blue-green and covered with twisting snake-like runes. It's helm was horned and from an archaic mark. The Alpha Legionnaire held an old, but well maintained bolter in his hands.

Bolters rounds knocked Nicanor back, the rounds blowing out chunks of ceramite. Aeton's bolter came up, spitting rounds, but the Alpha Legionary was already moving away, behind the crates of servitors unloading. Iapetos raced after him, plasma pistol spiting rounds at the Alpha Legionary. But the Chaos Astartes was fast, as each of the superheated plasma bolts missed him by only a few feet, only scorching his armor barely. Instead each shot incinerated stacks of flesh-units.

Finally Ceranus made the shot. The finest shot in Second Squad placed a bolter round on the right leg joint of the Chaos Marine, practically blowing the leg off. The Alpha Legionary stumbled and Iapetos took the opportunity to vaporize him with his plasma pistol. The Chaplain's roar of triumph was cut short as a daemon tackled him. Iapetos ripped the daemon off but several more winged daemons advanced through the hail of bolter fire being directed at them.

Winged daemons flew up and tore their claws into the reserve power units, igniting a chain reaction that sent entire rows of flesh-units falling down, igniting promethium reserve tanks. Immediately a field of fire cut off the Second Squad from Iapetos.

''Chaplain!'' Nicanor activated his vox signal. Nearby Valeria was crying in horror at the sight of the daemons.

''I am alive Brother-Sergeant.'' Iapetos composed voice came over the line.

''We will dig you out Brother-Chaplain-'' Nicanor began.

''No!'' Iapetos voice came over the vox. ''Continue with the mission! That is a direct order.'' he commanded.

''Brother-''

''Do not argue! Go, we have no time.'' With that Iapetos cut the connection.

Nicanor looked ahead. He could not make out the form of Iapetos beneath the wall of burning flesh-units and scrap metal. The insane cackles of daemons filled the air, along with a series of quotations from the _Liber Orpheus_.

''Squad Nicanor, move up on my command, we have work to do.''

In the middle of the flames Chaplain Barcus Iapetos raised _Purgator_ and his plasma pistol. Black winged shapes came out shrieking through the inferno and dead hands reached for him. He crushed the limbs with great blows from his crozius.

''I am Barcus Iapetos! Son of Orpheus! Warrior of the Emperor! Perish you mongrel stains on human existence!'' the Chaplain roared as he closed in for one final time.

* * *

Valeria was quiet. She was not sure quite what she had seen. Those strange, evil shapes that had appeared among the flames chilled her to her very soul. She had thought herself a calm, capable person, but those things.

_Those things..._

Those things were utterly wrong and unnatural, just thinking about them made her want to vomit in horror and disgust. She began to retch up uncontrollably. A bit of vomit came on the floor, flecking Morovian's boot as she wrenched over.

She heard one of the Astartes give a snort of disgust as Morovian hauled her up.

''Are you fine milady?'' Morovian asked. Valeria was shocked out of her warp-induced horror by the very idea that some someone like her would be a ''lady''..

''No, not fine,'' she choked out. ''Those things-''

''Such weakness this is what we protect?'' said Ceranus disdainfully.

''Those things will die.'' said Nicanor, turning to Ceranus. ''I can tell that you all are disquieted over Brother-Chaplain Iapetos's death, do not be. This is our fate, we are born to make war and we are born to die. We will avenge Iapetos.'' he sighed.

He then looked at Valeria, lifting her chin up gently as he could. ''I apologize my lady, but I do not have much time to speak with you, we must move quickly, and you must be brave, you must not get in the way of my brothers, nod of you understand.'' he said, his voice distorted by his vox-grille.

Hesitantly, she nodded.

''Good.'' Nicanor straightened back up,. ''Ceranus, Apion, Aeton, you take point.''

It was in a large control room he encountered the traitors.

Apion led the way, flamer blazing as his autosenses picked up movement, a gout of promethium filled the entrance way to the chamber as the young Astartes scanned about for threats. Their were a set of human screams, and then silence. Then for a moment, as Ceranus and Aeton entered, they realized that the corpses that Apion had roasted were normal sized humans, albeit blackened and burnt into an almost unrecognizable crisp. Indeed, the only Alpha Legionary was a Chaos Marine standing at the far side of the chamber.

It was a silver-armored Marine, which was inserting strange metallic feelers into the skull of a bound Magos at the far side of the chamber. It paid the Praetors no heed as it continued it's work. Nicanor felt his anger rise at the ignorance. He raised his bolter, then something charged through a set of limb-replacement vats. It was an Alpha Legionary armed with a plasma gun, his faceplate carved to resembled some sort of daemonic skull Even as Nicanor's bolter was trained in him, the Praetor was forced to admit that it was clever finding a way to hide Astartes bulk behind the lab equipment.

He barley squeezed the trigger when a bright burst of plasma flared into existence .Aeton was struck by it. The upper half of the Techmarine was simply vaporized in the heat of a small sun as the form of Ceranus was obscured by light and tossed in the lower decks. Behind metallic panels burst the forms of more Astartes. They moved swiftly, firing off brief bursts of bolter fire. Severus's helm exploded from a headshot, his body falling to the ground, his bolter slipping form his nerveless fingers.

Two of Squad Nicanor down in so few moments. It was shocking. But Nicanor had their vengeance. Lukias's bolter blew back the plasma gunner with several shells, blowing away chunks of ceramite form his armor.

An Alpha Legionary, wearing a serpent-like helm, dropped from above, his power sword blazing as he cut Dakias from shoulder to hip, the two halves of the Marine fell to the ground, smoking. The champion's next sword stroke tore open Daecus's breastplate, carving a massive wound across his torso. Another Alpha Marine with a chainsword, hammered his blade into the chestplate of Apion as he brought his flamer up and was shoulder charged by Morovian who fired off a quick burst first. The Alpha Legionary spun around and sliced the bolter in half with one swift, snake-like lunge.

Meanwhile Lukias noticed the plasma gunner recovered and he cursed as he found his bolter empty. He ran forwards, drawing his combat knife and talked the Alpha Legionary, wrestling the plasma gun out of his grip and sending it spinning across the floor.

The Alpha Champion raised sword for the killing stroke and then leapt to the side as Nicanor's shots went off mark. The Alpha Marine dove forward, blade slicing Nicanor's bolter at the grip as the Praetor drew his own blade and blocked the next swing.

The Chaos Champion brought the snake-like helm in, the fanged grille sneering.

''For the Emperor'' the Champion shouted triumphantly as Nicanor snarled in hatred at the blatant mockery. He kicked the Alpha Legionary away but the enemy fighter recovered and launched into a blistering counterattack.

Valeria stood paralyzed with shock. The research chamber she knew from her days before was transformed into a battlefield, covered by blackened corpses and bloody bodies. Astartes in white and green wrestled and dueled across the area in a brutal close quarter fight. In the rear the blank-faced monster still stood motionless, ignoring the carnage around him, he was too far away to be affected by any of the fighting as he pushed his feelers deeper into Carnus's skull. The Magos groaned in pain. Valeria gasped with shock and horror. A sick feeling began to grow inside her.

She looked at her hands.

She knew what she must do.

* * *

The Alpha Legionary was unlike any other swordsman save perhaps Captain Atreus and the Chapter Master. Nicanor knew he was good, very good, but compared to this Chaos Marine he was barely holding his own. The Alpha Legionary's sword has a hilt that looked like it was forged from human bone and it flickered with crimson fire. His style was excellent, favoring attack over defense and aggressive and skilled as a cobra.

The power sword scorched his shoulder guard, burning through the tactical symbol ad Nicanor blocked another hand. He brought is fist around, punching the Alpha Legionary in the fact, but the warrior leapt back and attacked again. His next attack brought Nicanor down back as he raised his sword to defend against another attack, his power sword went spinning to the ground, deactivating in a haze of blue flames as the Alpha Legionary brought his sword about.

''For the Emperor.'' the Alpha Legionary repeated.

Then their was a las-shot and the Alpha Legionary's head snapped around, standing several feet away was Valeria, holding her hellpistol with one hand. The Magos's arms slumped in his restraints as his head rolled back. The silver-faced Techmarine, Malathrax screeched in pain and shock, holding his held as his connected was broken. He staggered back, holding his skull. Distracted for a moment by the loss of their asset, Zerathras was left valuable as Nicanor kicked him the stomach, kicking him to the ground.

Leaping on Zerathras, Nicanor knocked the sword form the Alpha Legionary's hands and attempted to strangle him, the serpent helm was knocked from his head and the two struggled across the ground, writhing and rolling. The Chaos's marine's bare face was visible to Nicanor, his tanned, deep features snarling as Nicanor and he spat out, his acid saliva messing p the Praetor's visor. Nicanor threw off the Alpha Legionary and tore off his helmet.

Zerathras recovered quickly on the ground, keeping his eye on Nicanor and he grasped around for his power sword, his hands found the hilt and he smiled in triumph. He started to press the activation rune when he heard the familiar snap-hiss of a power sword begin activated.

''Goodbye.'' a voice said as he turned around. Something blue flashed and his head rolled tot hr ground.

Nicanor got up, starting at the battered form of Ceranus. His left arm was a blackened stump from elbow down and his armor was burnt and warped,. On one hand he clutched Nicanor's discarded power sword.

''Brother.'' Nicanor breathed out.

''In the flesh sir.'' Ceranus nodded.

They were distracted then by a feminine scream. The silver-faced Chaos marine recovered and leapt at Valeria, ignoring the hellbolts fired at him. Quickly Nicanor grabbed the power sword from Ceranus and leapt forward. The blade flashed the the twin halves of the corrupted chaos marine chased to he floor in front of Valeria. Nearby Lukias got up, combat knife wet with the black blood of the Alpha Legionary. He turned around to see the chainsword- wielding Alpha Legionary throw Morovian to his feet while a badly wounded Daecus reeled back.

The Chaos Marine stood, breathing heavily, chainsword caked with Daecus's blood as the Praetors began to surround him. His horned helmet darted back and form as his battered armor wheezed in protest.

''Come on you whoresons-'' he began.

A plasma gun fired, vaporizing the upper half of the Chaos Marine as Lukias threw away the fallen Alpha Legionary's gun.

''My apologies Brother-Sergeant, for using a tainted weapon of the enemy, I will report to the Apothecary for the purity checks.'' Lukias nodded.

''Noted Lukias,'' Nicanor breathed, walking over to a trembling Valeria. The Tech-Adept dropped her hellpistol and grabbed Nicanor's gauntlet, crying as she did so.

''It was the only way, he was dying'' she sobbed.

Unsure of how to handle it, Nicanor simply stood and let her cry on his gauntlet.

* * *

_We wait for two hours after finshing off the last of the Alpha Legionaries._

_The rest of Third Company comes in, led by Captain Atreus himself. They purge the last remaining cultists and daemons form the complex and then begin purging operations into the surrounding Varnus townships. Atreus assures me it will not take long._

_Aeton, Severus and Dakias are slain. Death is to be expected in the life of an Astartes, but their losses are still shocking. The Captain offered to carve the names in the Hall of Heroes himself, but I disagreed. It would be my burden._

_Iapetos remains alive, as does Daecus. The Chaplain was found by Apothecary Kyros, barely alive and buried among the wreckage. Even now his condition is critical. Kyros does not know if he can make it. Daecus's diagnosis looks more promising. Ceranus has lost an arm and is being rushed to the Apothecarion for a replacement. He is none too happy about it's lost, having to work through his aim again. But he will cope. I know he will._

_Atreus thanks me, but assigns my squad fleet duties for the duration few the campaign. Part of me wishes to be on the front lines...but another part simply wants to mourn. It's a very odd feeling, one that I am not comfortable with. We will receive new squad replacements in time, he assures me._

_As for the the Tech-Priest Valeria, she was taken by a Mechanicus shuttle later in the day. I did not speak to her as she left. I don't think it was needed. I cannot offer her any consolation. I am not trained for it. That is the work of the Tech-Priests to fix and heal her._

_As for now, I concentrate on another healing. That of my squad._


	3. The Trap

Author's Notes: Here we make the appearance of some Cadians.

Reviews and comments welcome.

**Trap**

* * *

_I am Varion Nicanor._

_Son of Guilliman, Servant of the Emperor-Machine_

_After we purged the planet of Gallat from the Alpha Legion , Captain Atreus decreed we are to return to Orpheus to rest and restore our strength. Alas, it is not too be as the Arclight recives a local Fleet signal. Sathis III is an agri-world that the Chapter has sworn to defend. A host of orks has moved to pillage it and the local Imperial Guard have rallied to stop them. We cannot walk away from this fight. Depleted or not, we must move in._

_We deploy, hunting down orks wherever we can find them, but we cannot lure the main ork warlord, Zarsnik, out. Damn that xenos, it is a clever one for his breed. It is constantly on the move. Atreus makes his plans to pin the beast down and kill it._

_It is a plan with a good chance of success, but it puts the Praetors of Guilliman in a position we do not want to be. Some of my brethren object, but Atreus's will is adamant. I arm myself with my consecrated wargear._

_On Orpheus we have a saying._

_Behead the snake and the body will die._

* * *

Lieutenant Yalen wiped away sweat from his brow as he looked into the distance. The forms of the orks were barely identifiable in their own trenches. If a man could look hard enough they could see the forms of great tribal banners, marking out different greenskin factions. Not that Yalen cared of course, there were some things the Cadian did not wish to know. The Lieutenant was not the tallest of men, only at average height for a Cadian. His face was broad and covered with scars. His eyes were the typical blue of the Cadian regiments, peering over his short, stubby nose. He wore the camouflaged fatigues of the Cadian 132nd under gray-black flak armor.

''Looks like they are moving up sir'' Corporal West, his aide, said as he lowered the binoculars to survey the greenskins positions. He was the stereotypical Cadian soldier, tall, muscular and blonde. Like the rest of the Cadian 132nd he was clad in the same brown-tan camouflage the regiment wore on the Raden Line.

Sathis III was a major agri-world in the sub-sector. One that supplied several surrounding systems, including two hive worlds and a Forge World. It had been a relatively peaceful world up until recently when the Greenskin hordes of Waaggh Zarsnik invaded. Over three hundred thousand orks rampaged over half of the planet until the Imperial Guard arrived. The 179th Army had deployed over twenty regiments to support the local PDF against the greenskin threat, pushing back the hordes into a series of defensible wastes south of the main collectives at the Raden hills.

A great series of earthworks and trenches had been dug here, constructed the Munitorum Engineers and labored on by the Guardsmen of the 179th Army. The ground was gritty and hard, as such only shallow trenches could be dug. Instead walls of earth had been raised to compensate. The Cadian 132nd was one of those regiments holding the front line.

Yalen's thoughts soured briefly as he recalled the regiment's past. The 132nd was raised on Cadia two years ago and had been decorated with honors at Beta Erdus against a horde of treacherous PDF. It was one of the many, many regiments that Cadia produced, a crack mechanized unit. The current 132nd was merely the latest incarnation of the regiment, the regiment's history stretching back millenia in past incarnations. And now it was in the Eastern Fringe, so far away from Cadia that it was unlikely they would ever return home. It was a fact of life in the Guard that offworld regiments would most likely never see their home worlds again, but Yalen had at least hoped he would return.

But he would not, just because Segmentum Command was hungry for Cadian fighting stock. The Cadian regiments, born and bred on a Fortress world to be soldiers were honored across the Imperium for a good reason. Regiments were dispatched as far to the Ultima Segmentum. Within the Army Group their were only two other Cadian regiments beside the 132nd, not counting the attached Kasrkin companies that were permanently assigned to the Cadians. The regiment was surrounded by outsiders.

Right now the 132nd was serving beside a unit of those outsiders. The Brimlock 22nd, a group of soldiers raised the the manufactorum world of Brimlock. It was a fresh outfit, with little combat experience, but they had proved to be solid enough men. They were too the south of the trench line.

To the north was the 75th Steel Legion. Normally also a mechanized unit they had been assigned to fight in the trenches as a result of manpower shortages. Expert ork fighters from the hives of Armageddon they had earned the Cadians's respect for their intense hatred of the greenskins. A unit of Brimlock armor was stationed nearby, the Brimlock 7th Armored. Unlike their infantry counterparts these tankers were at least veterans of conflicts against the Tau and Hive fleets. The Cadians could count on them.

There were of other regiments assigned to Sathis, but only his own regiment concerned Yalen. The twelve companies of the 132nd and their attached companies of Kasrkin had dug in tight, in formations straight out of the Tactica. Yalen himself headed Fourth Platoon of B Company under Major Asher. Fifty Cadians, born fighters all of them, plus several support squads of heavy weapons teams, were under his command. Yalen knew each of the men personally, having been promoted to the rank of Sergeant when Lieutenant Markos was slain against the orks on Farol II.

His own status as a lowborn soldier upset some of the noble born officers. He had not had any trouble with Major Asher however. Though a highborn son of the Cadian military nobility, Asher counted Yalen as one of his best men.

''Sir,'' Sergeant Gallen looked up. ''Aircraft.'' he pointed at several shapes coming in.

''Orks?'' Yalen said with alarm, the Brimlock Hydra batteries were meant to guard this section of the line from ork bombers. Emperor knew how much trouble his unit had from ork strafers.

''No sir... I think it's ours.'' Gallen said as one of the aircraft swopped down, several others following with them. They came down far in the rear trenches, away from were B Company was stationed.

''Give me that,'' West handed Yalen the binoculars and he peered through them to see the gunship.

It was a blue and white vehicle, broad nosed and predatory, almost boxy in shape. On one side was a startburst shield with a white upside down omega symbol incorporated into the side.

''Astartes.'' Yalen breathed.

* * *

''I don't like this,'' Ceranus had complained over the vox. ''This isn't what we are made for. We should not be bleeding ourselves like this.''

Nicanor strode out into the rear trenches as the rest of Squad Nicanor formed up. Outside Lukias stood guard, his Mark IV armor fully repaired. Ceranus flexed his bionic arm, still testing it out. The limb had been freshly fitted a week ago. Apion cradled his flamer, Daecus's purity seals flapped lightly in the breeze. Morovian was still strong and silent.

''I have already voiced your problems with this plan to the Captain, he disagrees.'' Nicanor replied through the same link.

''I feel your annoyance brother, but Captain Atreus is our liege lord.'' Lukias reminded him. Ceranus grunted in response.

In front of Nicanor was Captain Atreus, a breathtaking figure in ornate blue and white artificer armor. His war plate was ancient, millenia old, some pieces dating back to the days of the Horus Heresy. If one scraped away the white paint they could see the blue of Guilliman's Legion. On the breastplate was a large blue double-headed eagle. He wore the relic sword _Ventus_ by his side. The revered power sword was master-forged and dated back to the earliest days of the Great Crusade. Nicanor's own blade was well forged by the Techmarines of Orpheus, but compared to _Ventus_ it was nothing. It was more of an artifact than a blade really.

Atreus's helmet was off, carried by a servitor. His patrician, hawkish features were exposed. His profile was classically noble and resembled that of his Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, like so many of his brothers. He wore a crimson cloak over his shoulders.

Behind him Brother Alexos unfurled the banner of the Third Company. The great crimson and blue company banner flapped in the wind outside the trench. The banner bore the signal of a helmeted warrior carrying the shield of Orpheus in one hand while standing over the bodies of daemons. It was the personal heraldry of Atreus and a inspiring symbol to Nicanor. His command unit, the Eagles of Orpheus, followed him. The Command Squad sergeant Menader stood resolutely in his Mark IV armor, wearing a blue tabard with his personal heraldry emblazoned on it. Iulun, the company champion, wore an ancient suit of Mark II Crusade armor with a red crest. He carried a power axe forged into the wings of the Imperial Eagle. Brother Veltian carried the plasma gun and Apothecary Kyros completed the rear, resplendent in his white armor.

The rest of the Praetors sergeants also came up near Atreus. Praxis, the commander of the First Squad was there, his helmet off, exposing his scarred features. Praxis wore an ancient suit if MKIII armor and carried an ornate power mace. Vatos, the commander of Sixth squad was clad in a more modern suit of Mark VII plate. Behind him came the Devastator sergeants Harkan and Scorpius.

Moving out of his command dugout was a tall Guard officer. He was typical Cadian military nobility. His face was stern and patrician, covered with scars won over a long career. The shoulder pips identified the officer as a Colonel. He wore a suit of Kasrkin-class carapace armor, camouflaged in the same grown and tan camouflage the rest of the Cadians wore on this planet. His left arm was encased in a large, boxy power fist. Behind him groups of Guard officers were coming up, most of them attired similarly to their commander. They shared the same pale Cadian features and light hair and blue eyes. All of them looked like born fighters, which is what they were.

''I am Colonel Brocken, Commanding Officer of the Cadian 132nd,, This is my second, Major Asher.'' he indicated another Cadian noble in a carapace-lined greatcoat. ''Forgive me but I received little word of Astartes reinforcements.'' he spoke, looking up at Atreus.

Atreus's great white gauntlets clanged against his azure eagle as he formed the sign of the Aquila. ''We have just recently arrived from another battlefront.'' his voice was naturally deep, with only a slight Orphean accent.

''While I thank you for the reinforcements... I wonder why my regiment?'' Brocken asked.

''I will explain my reasons for coming here soon, however that will take time,'' Atreus looked in the distance. ''And if I am correct the greenskins will be launching an assault soon.''

Brocken nodded. ''I see,'' he said softly. ''We will conduct a briefing later, I have to rally my men, How will you help us?'' he asked.

''I will detail my squads to your forward companies, give me a list of those who need it and my brethren shall arrive, I shall join you myself.'' Atreus said.

''That's acceptable.'' Brocken replied.

''Good,'' Atreus looked at his assembled command. ''Fall in.''

* * *

Yalen was shouting out orders for Fourth Platoon when a huge shadow dropped into the trench beside him. He whirled around in shock, his blue eyes coming to rest on a great carved double-headed eagle on an Astartes breastplate.

''Throne,'' he muttered in shock. He looked up to see the crimson eye lenses of an Astartes helmet. ''I knew you were coming but I never imagined you would be here so soon.'' he said quickly, straightening himself up.

Yalen had seen the corrupted brethren of the Astartes in the distance, on raids around Cadia, he had been seen the statues of the preachers in the Cadian churches, but he had never seen one of the Emperor's Angels up close like this.

The Astartes's head seemed to dip in acknowledgment in a faint whine of servos. ''My name is Sergeant Nicanor,'' he spoke, his voice deep and rumbling, enhanced by his vox chaster. ''My brothers of Second Squad come with me.'' he indicated behind him.

Five more warriors dropped into the trench. All of them were clad in a variety of different armor marks. But they all were in the white and blue heraldry. On each shoulder guard was a starburst shield device. Each was so huge they did not need to use the elevated firing step to see over the trench lip.

''I am First Lieutenant Yalen, of the Cadian 132nd, B Company, Fourth Platoon commander.'' he rattled off smartly. ''This may sound stupid, but what is your chapter? The Ultramarines?'' he asked, spying the upside down omega symbol incorporated into starburst shield.

''Close,'' Nicanor's voice sounded almost...amused. ''We are the Praetors of Orpheus, honored successors of the Ultramarines. We are not our founding legion, but I thank you for the compliment.''

''I see,'' Yalen was taken offguard slightly. He really had no idea how to interact with these warriors. ''I have to tend to my unit.''

'' I understand, I will support you.'' Nicanor said simply.

''Is that it? Just six warriors?'' Yalen asked, counting up the numbers for the first time.

''We have taken losses on campaigns before, we shall refill our ranks when we return to Orpheus Prime. .'' Nicanor commented, walking past Yalen. He stared of into the distance.

''Sir, the orks.'' West said, coming up, staring at the Praetors.

''No barrage?'' Yalen commented, as he stared off into the distance. The orks were moving, a green tide in the distance. They were already charging.

''They must be more bloodthirsty than usual.'' Gallen said.

''Alright then,'' Yalen activated his vox-bead. ''All squads! Prepare for engagement.''

* * *

''Cadians, interesting breed aren't they?'' Ceranus said over the personal inter-squad vox.

The Praetors had spread out int squads, coming near the forward companies of the 132nd. Nicanor's squad had been assigned to support B Company, some three hundred Cadians spread out along the forward trench zone.

''Really? A word of praise from you?'' Daecus asked dubiously.

''They are more than mere Guardsmen, look at were they live, even we Astartes must respect them.'' Ceranus commented. ''If we are going to be stuck in a grind there are few regiments I would choose over the Cadians.'' he commented.

''Still stuck on that aren't you?'' Daecus commented. ''It's the only way to draw the beast out you know.''

''I still think we could have played this whole thing better.'' argued Ceranus.

''I have never met a regiment of Cadians before, they live on the other side of the galaxy don't they?'' Apion asked, changing the subject. He had no time to Ceranus's moaning.

''Correct.'' Nicanor said.

''Then why are they on the Eastern Fringe?'' Apion continued.

''Cadian blood is in high demand all over the galaxy, it's not unknown for regiments to serve as far away as the Ultima Segmentum.'' Daecus answered.

''Valued allies indeed,'' Lukias noted. ''But we must prepare, the greenskins come.'' he indicated.

''Apion go find the Major's flamer teams, Morovian, use that missile launcher in unison with the heavy weapon teams, the rest, we stand at the forefront.'' Nicanor commanded.

Across the shell-marked field thousands upon thousands of orks stampeded. They were an emerald tsunami of stinking xenos flesh. Dozens of tribal banners waved in the air as ork war cries sounded across no mans land.

It was a throaty, deep, alien roar.

**''WAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!''**

The Guardsmen ignored it. Yalen activated his vox-bead.

''Platoon Command Actual to all squads. Heavy weapon teams, hold fire until six hundred meters, lasguns, open fire at four hundred meters, single shot only, your sergeants will be watching. I do not need any stay shots. Mortars, open fire.'' he rattled off.

Clumps of orks exploded as the Cadian mortar teams found their marks. Ignoring their losses the orks continued off, waving their cleavers and firing various large-caliber weaponry into the air as they hollered and roared in excitement. As they reached the designated kill zone, heavy bolters, autocannons and frag missiles unloaded into the orks. Entire mobs disappeared underneath the concentrated Cadian fire, ork war machines were torn to shreds by autocannon rounds and frag missiles sent storms of shrapnel into the ork ranks.

But the greenskins still came.

They still charged over the butchered bodies of their fellows in great numbers. Despite the concentrated hurricane of Cadian gunfire, the greenskins still continued on with a frenzied bloodlust that carried them into the teeth of hell.

Then the lasguns spoke.

_''Open fire.''_ Nicanor commanded.

The Astartes bolters joined in.

Orks simply exploded, entire heads and limbs blown off in carefully calculated shots. A storm of red las-fire joined the Astartes rounds along with the heavy weapons fire, felling entire mobs of orks as they closed in.

The orks fired weapons at the Guard trenches as they ran. It was mostly for the sound and noise rather than any serious attempt to kill the enemy. However several Cadians were felled by the sheer weight of ork gunfire, medics moved up immediately to pull them back to the rear trenches. At fifty meters Nicanor gave the command to switch to full auto. The Guard copied the Astartes and redoubled their fire. Bolters and lasguns at full auto slew entire ranks of orks as they came on. At ten meters Apion rose with Cadian flamer teams and sent gouts of promethium into the greenskins.

And then direct contact was made.

Thousands upon thousands left the ork trenches to attack the Praetors and the 132nd. Of those only hundreds remained to close with the regiment. Of the orks at B Company's trench, barely a hundred reached their positions.

But it was almost enough for the orks to satisfy their bloodlust.

* * *

Yalen brought up his hellgun and fired a shot at a cleaver-wielding ork, blowing it's brains out. Another ork came in, it's chainaxe coming down to cleave the hellgun in half. The twin halves fell away as the ork's boot came in, kicking the Lieutenant back. A jolt of pain shot through Yalen's chest. Yalen had no time to draw his chainblade. But he did not need to, a bolter shot a close range exploded the Ork's skull like rotten fruit. Next to the Lieutenant, Nicanor stood over him, one hand grasping an ornate power sword. The blade crackled with blue energy as he hacked his way through the orks.

Greenskins came down in the trenches, many of them sporting las wounds or flamer burns. They were clad in various bits of scrap metal that served as armor and garish rags. Others has poorly-applied warpaint smeared over their faces, or metallic piercings. They carried fat-barreled pistols and oversized rusty cleavers.

The Cadians, although outmatched, fought well. None of them broke, instead fighting back with knives, lasgun butts, shovels and pistols. Cadians were bred to fight and die for the Imperium, and all of them were well trained in close quarters combat. Of course the Astartes faired better. Each of the Praetors drew large, silver-hilted gladius blades and fought with pure economy of skill. Nicanor himself wielded a power sword that severed ork heads and limbs with every stroke.

Nearby Major Asher roared for reinforcements as he fought off a cleaver-wielding ork chieftain with his family's heraldic power saber. The ork's arm fell to the side as Asher beheaded the howling beast with a quick blow. Another ork came up. The Major proceeded to blow it's brains out with his bolt pistol.

A hulking ork wielding a huge, double-handed chainaxe came charging in. It wore plates of crude iron over it's massive frame. It towered over even the Astartes. Several more hulking orks followed after it, ready to kill. The smell of the orks was overpowering, and Yalen almost gagged. But he gritted his teeth and drew his chainsword. Nearby Nicanor brought his power sword around, slicing through both wrists of the ork chieftain as it brought up it's chainaxe. The ork's face briefly looked surprised before Nicanor beheaded it.

Yalen darted in, his chainsword blocking a cleaver strike from an ork wielding a bull-shaped banner. Nearby Nicanor was involved in a swirling melee with several more hulking orks. The standard bearer brought it's own stubby cleaver around. Jots of pain lanced up Yalen's arm as the ork forced him back with inhuman strength. However the Cadian officer judged the next blow correctly and angled his chainblade to cut off the ork's arm as the wrist. Spittle hit the Cadian officer's face as he hammered the chainsword through the ork's chest two-handed. The hulking greenskin writhed and gasped as the chainblade tore through it's torso and throat in a spray of gore.

It's banner slipped and fell to the ground. Yalen barely brought his breath before another ork came screaming in.

A blazing sword beheaded the ork as Nicanor appeared by Yalen's side nodding in approval.

''A good kill Cadian.'' he said over the din of battle. Yalen had no time to reply as a wound ork began to aim a gun at Nicanor.

Yalen shot it in the head with his laspistol.

''Another good kill.'' Nicanor grunted.

Then there was a whine of servos and a massive hulking shape came behind Yalen and Nicanor. The Cadian officer turned around and his eyes widened in surprise as he took in the massive shape striding over the broad access trenches.

''Throne.'' he whispered.

It was a Dreadnought. One arm was a crackling power fist, the other was a multi-barrled assault cannon. It's sarcophagus was molded into the image of an Astartes warrior standing over the broken bodies of orks. One side of it's main hull had the starburst shield icon of the Praetors. The other had a set of engravings in High Gothic, Each one listing a famous battle.

_''KILL THE ORK! DEATH TO THE GREENSKIN! BY GUILLIMAN AND ORPHEUS!''_ the Dreadnought blared.

Nicanor looked at the bloodstained Colonel in the distance with his officers. Captain Atreus was also present, his white and blue armor stained with blood. None of it his own. Yalen walked up to Nicanor, still glancing at the Dreadnought. Dreadnought Amellius was an honored member of the chapter. Six thousand years old, he was one of the Third's most famous Company Captains in life, and now one of the Chapter's most venerable Ancients. The great war machine remained silent, looking over the battlefield.

The orks had been finished off quickly after he had arrived. In all, casualties had been light among the Cadians. As for the Astartes only five battle brothers had been wounded, with no deaths yet. Atreus had already taken the head of the largest chieftain among the ork wave and Colonel Brocken crushed the life of another. The Cadians were now deploying what was referred to as ''slash and burn'' squads, for clean up after the battle. The greenskins could not be allowed to release their spores into the air.

Throughout the air the pungent stink of the greenskins and the smell of smoke filled the air.

''Throne! That is ripe.'' Yalen coughed, face scrunching up in disgust as the downwind brought the ork-stink in. He glanced at the towering Praetor.

''I suppose I should wait for the memo, but could you tell me exactly what you are doing here?'' Yalen asked the hulking form of Nicanor. The Astartes did not even remove his helmet after combat, unlike his Captain.

''We are here to persecute the greenskin.'' he answered flatly.

''I know that,'' Yalen huffed. ''But why?'' he pressed on.

Nicanor turned to stare at him. Yalen felt no feat as those crimson eye lenses scanned up and down.

''The Warlord.'' one of the other marines answered for him. It was the one called Apion. The one called Lukias seemed to glare at him.

''Apion-'' he started to speak, but Nicanor silenced him with a wave of his hand.

''It's fine Lukias,'' Nicanor nodded. ''Yes, we are here to draw out the Greenskin Warlord, we are here to kill the one called Zarsnik.'' he said.

Yalen was confused. ''The head honcho? Why haven't you simply dropped in from orbit like you Astartes are meant to do and kill him with a drop assault?'' he asked.

''We would, however a variety of factors mitigate that,'' Nicanor explained. ''We have had trouble locating he exact position of Zarsnik for a while now. More however he is a canny ork, more so than usual, he has distributed his banners throughout his own warbands and makes sure he is in the heart of his army at all times, gathering information for a decapitation strike is difficult, our scouts were unable to get past his extensive personal warband.'' Nicanor detailed.

''So you are coming here to lure him in?'' Yalen pondered.

''Correct,'' Nicanor said. ''My Lord Atreus stands here, with a half company of Praetors. He plants his banner alongside yours. Your regiment has already repulsed several of the ork army's assaults. When you add the Astartes to the mix, fly the banners of the greatest human warriors and make sure your heroes are fully seen by the orks...well that's a target that Zarsnik can't resist.'' he explained.

''He want's a piece of us? Right?'' Yalen realized.

''Correct, orks are primal, brutal creatures, Zarsnik, canny as he is, cannot resist the idea of fighting the Astartes in direct battle.'' the Astartes called Daecus joined in. ''And you...you Cadians. This whole position is an ork's dream of fighting and killing.''

Yalen was torn. One one hand he was offended at being essentially bait for a ork lord. However another part of him fully appreciated the Astartes logic and was proud to prove the worth of his regiment against the greenskin.

''Truth to be told,'' Apion said. ''We need you.''

''Somewhat...'' Ceranus muttered.

''Oh yes we do'' Apion countered.

''You are going to have to explain that to me, because it looks like we need you here.'' Yalen said dryly.

''What my brother means,'' Lukias joined the conversation. ''Is that we excel in the lightning strike, the rapid assault...sitting here is not what we do. Grinding trench warfare works against our nature.''

''I get you,'' Yalen chuckled. ''The 132nd are a mechanized outfit, I would be rather in a Chimera following in the Brimlock boys around instead of slogging in the trenches here. Unfortunately Marshal Trenko seems to think that staying put is the best decision.'' he snorted at the last part.

'Trenko?'' Apion voxed Nicanor privately.

''Vahallan Marshal in charge of the 179th Army.'' Nicanor clarified.

''Oh.''

* * *

Rallen sat with West as he ended his shift. The corporal brought a set of cards and spread them out on the low set table as the leaned into a dugout. West looked up through the brim of his helmet and brought his cards close in.

''Your turn.''

Rallen drew and examined his card. He kept his face composed. It was a bad draw but he could handle it. Derjak was not a game he was very good at, but in this dusty craphole their were few better ways to pass the time.

''Greetings.'' a voice came. It was a deep voice, flavored slightly by a strange accent.

Rallen turned to see the Astartes bulk come in near him. His eyes widened. The Astartes had his helm off, exposing his broad, patrician features. His face was that of a human, thought much larger set. Everything was over-sized, even the teeth. The Astartes had short, close cropped brown hair and gray eyes that blinked.

''I am Apion, of the Praetors, forgive me for interrupting, I did not mean to startle you.'' he said.

''Oh, no, it's just that it's not everyday an Astartes comes up to you...Rallen trailed off.

''What are you doing here? Don't you have your own little group?'' asked West.

Apion shrugged, a curios gesture for a superman in power armor. ''I was always the curious one of my squad, my brothers laugh, but I care little,'' he looked at their cards. ''What game are you playing?''

''Dejark, a betting game, one of the variants of poker on Cadia, this is the 132nd's variation,'' Rallen explained. ''We use rankings, Citizen, Priest, Cardinal, Saint, Primarch and finally, the Golden Throne, the rarest card.'' Rallen explained.

''Poker?''

''We've changed the rules, a lot.''

''I see,'' Apion stared at the cards. ''A Primarch you said?'' he asked.

''Yes.'' with a quick look at West Rallen handed his Primarch card to Apion. The Astartes took it as gently as he could with his gauntlets, clutching it with his fingertips. It was an almost comical sight. Apion studied the figure in ornate golden armor, one shoulder guard made into a black fist.

''Dorn, one of Guilliman's brothers,'' Apion nodded. He gave back the card. ''On Orpheus we don't play with cards, we use stones, and a bowl, we called Kallium.'' he explained.

''Kallium? Sounds interesting.'' West commented.

''It is.''Apion mused. His vox-link crackled.

''Brother Apion, you are required, we are going on a patrol.'' Lukias's voice came over the vox.

''Acknowledged.'' Apion voxed in return.

''And for the love of the Primarch put your helmet on.''

For the next three days the orks came.

Waves of orks chieftains led their own tribes and warbands against the Imperial positions. They came like a green tide crashing against the Imperial rock. The Praetors and Cadians led the heart of the defense. Tens of thousands of orks perished over the next three days. After each battle slash and burn squads would be deployed. Occasionally the Astartes would join the squads on each purge mission. But more often they would venture out at night to hunt down ork scavengers.

Casualties also rose, six battle brothers had been slain by the orks. Their bodies had been collected and their geneseed removed. Fourteen more had suffered wounds of varying degrees. Some had been forced into a deep healing coma and extracted far to the Imperial rear via Rhino. Others had been patched up by Apothecary Kyros and sent back.

Morovian had suffered several deep wounds inflicted by an orkish chieftain and sent back to the rear were he could heal. Apion's left arm had been wounded to the point were he could no longer wield his flamer effectively, instead Daecus took up flamer duties. The rest of Squad Nicanor sported various minor wounds. The armor of the Space Marines was stained dark with dust and ork blood. Their war plate was damaged and scratched by three fierce days of fighting. Ceranus had to get a replacement helmet after his had been heavily damaged in the latest ork assault.

Amellius was a god of battle, striding forth alongside the newly widened trenched to take the fight to the orks. His sarcophagus was cratered and damaged by the relentless ork assault, but he stood strong despite that. The Ancient's power fist and assault cannon reaped a massive tally among the greenskins. Amellius became a rallying point for the men of B Company.

The Cadians themselves had already also dozens of slain troopers with many more wounded. But they held on. They were Cadians, born and bred and none of them would retreat before the greenskin filth.

Cadians did not flee.

''They are coming again.'' Yalen said to Major Asher after he saluted. The Major's face was drawn after he finished sipping his recaf. The Cadian noble's uniform was still dirtied by last night's firefight. His ornate power saber and bolt pistol were still holstered.

Asher's face was handsome, in a kind of hawkish, patrician way. He had short cut dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was typical Cadian military nobility in both his look and bearing. This was the type of man taught to lead and fight since birth.

''Aye, that they are, and if the look of it is correct that is the chieftain.'' Asher said, beckoning over an aide to give him some binoculars.

''You are correct Major.'' the deep voice of Nicanor sounded behind them. Yalen glanced briefly at the Astartes Sergeant as he pointed out a distant banner.

''I see it, a scarred cleaver of some sort.'' Asher commented.

Across the field the greenskins were roaring in unison. ''WAAAGGGGHHH! BOSS! WAAAAGGGHH ZARSNIK!'' they screamed in their crude bastardization of Imperial Gothic. It hurt Yalen's ears to listen to their glutteral chanting.

''This is were we do it then, this is what are you going to do now Praetor?'' Yalen turned to Nicanor. The Astartes glanced at him.

''Simple,'' Nicanor stated. _''Kill it.''_

This time the orks came more forcefully, once again with no barrage, such was their impatience.

All along the charging green horde were crude, greenskin transports and warmachines. Great armor-plated trucks and fighting vehicles slowed down to infantry pace to provide mobile barricades for the ork masses behind them. At the heart of the ork army, surrounded by the masses of lesser boyz, were the elite warbands of Zarsnik. These orks were bigger, their skin a shade of green so dark it was almost black. They were better equipped too, with a wide variety of scavenged Imperial weaponry.

As they came close Brocken sent out his orders to his company commanders and the Cadians opened fire. Autocannons, and krak missiles tore apart greenskins war machines in flame-wreathed explosions as heavy bolters felled entire mobs. But the orks came on, their war machines opened fire with heavy bore cannon and crude rockets, wreathing the guard lines in great explosions. Thousands of Guardsmen hunkered down, dozens more were slain, their bunkers ruptured.

The Ancient Amellion emerged from the rear, up a vehicle access trench, just as the greenskins crossed the lasgun range. Smoothly, the Cadians rose out of their trenches and sent a furious volley into the multitude of orks. The Dreadnought strode forward behind the trenches, his assault cannon spooling as he opened fire. In the distance several crude trucks exploded and orks were cut down as they climbed out of the burning wrecks.

The Praetor's Devastator squads added their fire to the Cadian heavy weapons, sending krak missiles into ork walkers as well as blasting apart armored ork infantry with plasma cannons and heavy bolters. Atreus himself directed A Company and Squad Praxis's fire. From the rear, Astartes Whirlwinds and Cadian mortars rained death upon the greenskins.

Then as the greenskins came into forty meters, they roared and a set of massive battlewagons charged forth from the horde. Each battlewagon was a heavily armored monster that deflected autocannon fire and missile like. Orks were crushed under the massive wheels of each vehicle. Each battlewagon opened up to reveal a hold full of ork nobles. Each one was a hulking monster, bedecked in crude scale mail and plates of iron. They wielded massive handcannons and two-handed chainblades. Some wielded crackling power claws. At their head was an immense ork, clad in a giant suit of crude black power armor. Half of it's face was augmetic and it wore a pair of massive horns on it's armor.

It was Zarsnik, and it was heading right for B Company.

* * *

Yalen fired his hellgun at the ork assault parties. Groups of greenskins armed with flamers, wire-cutters and grenades, proceeded the initial assault, trying to cut a way through and soften up the Cadian positions before the ork elite hit.

The ork army was badly blooded, that much was true. However it did not seem to stop the largest Warlord on the planet and his own personal wrecking crew from charging right as Asher's positions.

Nearby Nicanor and his squad cut down greenskins with cold, clinical volleys. Daecus moved up with his borrowed flamer, joining the Cadian flamer units in roasting the ork gunners as they provided covering fire for the ork nobles.

''Here they come.'' grunted Nicanor as his bolter went dry.

The first ork chieftain leapt over the low barricade, a massive cleaver in his hands. The blade hacked down two Cadians before a barrage of bolter fire and las-fire blasted it to pieces. Several more hulking orks appeared, with massive guns and blades. They opened fire, gunning down several more Cadians.

Nicanor's power sword beheaded a charging, one-eyed ork. Then Major Asher moved up side him, bolt pistol blazing as more orks were muscled their way through. Quickly B Company and Squad Nicanor was embroiled in a brutal close range fight. And the Warlord had not even joined the fight yet.

''Nicanor!'' a voice came through the din of battle.

The honor sword _Ventus_ hacked down a half-mechanized ork as Captain Atreus joined the battle. Behind him the Eagles followed, weapons at ready as they formed a protective circle around the Captain. Flanking the Eagles were squads Praxis and Amellius.

''I see heroes! I see the blood of Orpheus and Cadia!'' Atreus roared as he beheaded another ork chieftain. Meander's power fist tore through another armored ork warrior, coring the greenskin like an apple.

The Praetors cut down the orks warriors funneling through the barricaded walls and barbed wire meshes. Seeing the banner of the third fly again Major Asher rallied his Company, power saber blazing as he bellowed out orders. Between the Praetors and the Cadians the orks were driven over the rockrete barricade and back into the shell-marked no man's land. However through the maelstorm of battle the giant figure of Zarsnik loomed. One of the ork warlord's nobles clutched a massive skull banner.

''He spots the banner, good, we have him'' Lukias commented, gutting a wounded ork with his knife.

''Here they come!'' Atreus raised Ventus to the sky.

Nicanor looked up,. Fiery contrails ripped through the atmosphere, screaming as they centered in on the ork horde. Briefly, the greenskins below paused in their assault, casting their beady red eyes to the approaching drop pods.

There were a dozen pods. Each one slammed into the ground, crushing greenskins beneath their armored bulk.

''Down!'' Atreus voxed.

At that prearranged signal the Praetors and Cadians took what cover they could. Each of the drop pod doors opened, revealing rows of assault cannons and Whirlwind missile launchers. These were Deathstorm pods, built not for transportation, but for death. Then they opened fire, the pod's machine spirits accessing the nearby xenos targets. In all, the pods exhausted their payloads in less than a minute, but by the end of that minute hundreds upon hundreds of the orks had been blown to bits.

Scarcely after the drop pods had hit home, several more appeared in the skies. Even as the last guns of the Deathstorms fell silent these new arrivals hit the ground with a series of earth-shaking thunderclaps. These were no Deathstorms this time, but transports for the Third Company. Astartes in blue and white power armor exited the cherry-red drop pods, bolters blazing. A half-company of Astartes now deployed in the middle of the gutted ork horde, tearing into the greenskins even as they tried to reorganize.

Atreus led the charge towards Zarsnik. The ork warlord was roaring in rage and pain as he tore through the broken and bleeding bodies of his entourage. The ork lord's legendary toughness and thick armor were enough to protect him from the guns of the pods. The last few of the ork's followers gathered around him.

''For Orpheus!'' Atreus roared, sword raised.

The last battle was surprising short. Amellius confronted a pair of battered ork walkers and crushed the life from them. Ceranus slew the first of the heavily armored ork bodyguards with an expert bolter shot to the head. Two of Squad Praxis were cut down by the super-charged cannons of the orks as they closed.

_Ventus_ cut a mega-armored ork bodyguard from shoulder to hip before the greenskin could respond. Atreus slew a second bodyguard within seconds, beheading the snarling ogre-face of the xenos. The Captain's Sunfury plasma pistol spat out a spear of light at Zarsnik, but the ork warlord's form shimmered and warped with an energy field. Nicanor followed behind the Eagles as they tore into the ork bodyguards. Both his and Praxis's squads flanked the Command Squad as Atreus fought to behead the ork warlord. The Sergeant spotted a small knot of orks to the side, firing large-bore guns at the Praetors. Their leader was a hulking, cybernetic ork clutching the skull banner of the ork horde, miraculously intact.

''See the banner? Kill it.'' Nicanor commanded. His squadmates followed. Daecus's borrowed flamer sent several orks aflame as the xenos responded. Ceranus stumbled as a pair of shots took him in the knee. Apion fell back, blood streaming from his breastplate. But the orks could not stop the Praetors. Nicanor came in, slicing an ork from shoulder to hip before cutting a large gun in half. Lukias shot the ork point blank before the Sergeant confronted the banner bearer personally.

The ork was enormous, it's right arm and leg replaced with mechanized bionics. It carried an energized cleaver. In the other hand it carried the massive skull banner. It's face was striped with crimson war paint. It roared as Nicanor came at it, spittle flying out of it's mouth. The greenskin blocked Nicanor's first strike with it's blade before lashing out with a return blow. Nicanor felt the servos of his power armor whine in protest at the ork's incredible strength. He slipped the blade out of the lock and stabbed the ork through the chest.

Blood and oil flowed from the wound as the greenskin gurgled. It's cleaver caught Nicanor on the shoulder, tearing through a shoulder plate to draw a deep wound. Nicanor grunted as it lifted up it's knee, a crude spike coming from a hidden compartment to stab the Sergeant in the gut. Nicanor snarled, before smashing his sword hilt into the greenskin's face, one, twice, thrice. The Greenskin noble fell back, spitting out teeth. It roared, flecks of blood and spittle flying out as it raised it's cleaver again. It was cut off briefly in mid sentence as Lukias shot it. Bolter rounds tore chunks from it's face and torso, yet it still remained alive someone.

Then Nicanor took the opportunity to decapitate it.

The orkish banner fell to the ground, severed in half by the Sergeant's power sword. Nicanor's power armored boot crushed it into the hot dust of the ground as his squad gunned down the last of the ork warriors.

Nearby, Atreus's relic blade countered the massive power claw of the ork warlord. Zarsnik roared as he brought his gun around and blasted Atreus at point blank range, but the Captain's Iron Halo flashed as it took the impact. Atreus pressed in, _Ventus_ flashing as the honor sword tore through the overloaded systems of the ork's force field to rip through. The tip of the blade passed through the thick breastplate and through the ork's side to it's hip.

Zarsnik roared in pain, it's eyes flashing with hate. The ork's claw lashed out. Atreus barely had time to withdraw the blade before he countered. Grunting the ork tried to grasp the relic blade with it's hydraulic, energy-coated claws.

''BEAST!'' a vox-assisted voice came over the din of battle. A black armored form appeared in the skies, it's form eclipsing the sun briefly before it landed on the ork's back, it's crackling crozius tearing into the ork's back. Behind him streamed the forms of Squad Axios..

Chaplain Iapetos was back, having finished his bionic replacement surgery a week before. Servos whined as the Chaplain wrenched _Purgator_ from the ork's back. As Zarsnik whirled around the Chaplain smashed the crozius into the ork's skull. Blood streamed from the ork's armored head as Atreus took the opportunity to drive the blade two handed through the ork warlord's neck and wrenching it down, right through the ork's vital organs.

It took about twenty seconds for the warlord to die.

* * *

_The beast is dead._

_And with it the rest of the greatest chieftains and warriors in it's elite warbands. Without Zarsnik the lesser chieftains and warbosses under it's command will splinter and fight among themselves. The ork horde is already dead, it's just kicking around in it's death throes now. We spend another month killing ork leaders, destroying ork roks, and ambushing ork warbands until Atreus decrees that the ork horde is weakened enough to leave it to the PDF and Guard. I myself can only feel sorrow as I review the casualty rosters._

_Two dozen dead. Many more wounded. The grind was not kind to us._

_I do not mourn my brothers because they died. I mourn those dead for never seeing beautiful Orpheus again. They died for Sathis III, so close to Orpheus. Just to kill a beast._

_I do not blame my Captain, some thing are necessary. But at times I wonder if we could have done it differently._

_Enough, I have already promised Lukias and Ceranus I would go over the tac-feeds of the battle later. Now I have more pressing matters. Matters that enlighten me more._

_I look forward to Orpheus._


	4. Wolves Part One

**Author's Notes: **This is the latest in my Praetors of Orpheus short stories. This will be apart of a planned arc on the planet Dameia vs the Tyranids. At this point the Space Wolves feature. The chapter the Wolves appear in be in two parts, cut because of length.

As always comments and criticism are welcomed.

**Wolves Part One.**

* * *

_I am Varion Nicanor_

_Praetor of Orpheus. Servant of the Emperor._

_The Third Company returned to our blessed birth-world of Orpheus barely a month after the campaign on Sathis III was finished. I cannot tell you how glad my heart was to set foot on the sacred soil of Orpheus._

_I visited the great underground forge-cities and hydroponics farms. I gazed upon the vast factories and drill houses for the citizens of Orpheus. I saw the vast Temple of the Primarch on Orphic Primaris._

_And then..._

_I returned home to the Labyrinth of Orpheus, the honored fortress of the Chapter, a place consisting of miles of armored vaults, training halls and fortress chapels. I wandered the halls of the ancients, past the carved names of past heroes and through and training chapels. I made my respects to the Primarch and I rejoined my brothers. I spent two days hunting cave bears and rock vipers through the winding mining tunnels of Orpheus with only a combat knife. Through the darkness of the shafts I stalked and brought back the heads of three cave-ursuine._

_Then I went to work._

_For a week my squad trained and rested while Captain Marcenus of the Seventh Company prepared a list of recruits to transfer from the Reserve to the Battle Company. Ceranus honed his ever present aim while Morovian raced Apion on the wind-blasted surface of Orpheus._

_The Third Company took it's pick from the Seventh, the Eight and the Ninth. Thirty new battle brothers from multiple companies joined us, now fully-fledged members of the battle companies. Four brothers joined Second Squad._

_Four new warriors to fight alongside._

_Protus is slender for a marine, his body whipcord fast. He has received noted honors from his time in the Tenth and the Eighth. Then there is Rhesus, recruited from the northern Aorum cities. I've already read his files. He is being considered for entry into the Techmarines due to his aptitude for machines. He is privileged to wear a older suit of Mark III armor. Then there is Heron, son of an Orphic Legatus and one of the most famous noble families. Many of Heron's bloodline have been selected over the millenia to become Astartes. He is prideful, and full of himself. I cannot blame him, for he has much to prove. The last is Verties, a shaven brutal warrior, recruited from the deep mines of Herasus. He is grim and resolute, like a hunting dog or Orphic cavebear._

_Three weeks were spent meshing the new recruits into the squad, making sure we performed smoothly on the battlefield. Barriers were broken down and I made the customary attempts to form warrior's bonds. We attended Iapetos's mass and conducted field exercises with the brothers of the Fifth. All in the name of honing our war-skills._

_Then we received a plea of help._

_Chapter Astropaths received a call of mobilization from Segmentum Command along with details on Hive Fleet Kraken. The Ultramarines, our honored founders, had broken the Tyranids at Ichar IV. But Kraken had splintered like a shrapnel shell exploding, sending tendrils of Kraken to scatter throughout the Ultima Segmentum questing for biomass._

_One of these tendrils had been sighted in advance of Dameia, the capital of the Octavian sub-sector. Three worlds of the sub-sector had already been consumed and the loss of Dameia could not be tolerated by the Chapter Master. Dameia is an old world, liberated in the days of the Great Crusade by Roboute Guilliman and Leman Russ. It is an equal parts mix of industrial world and shrine world dedicated to the glory of Him on Terra._

_This is a world we cannot allow to fall._

_Chapter Master Hypatos dispatched Captain Atreus and the Third, alongside Captain Doron's Sixth with supporting detachments from the First and Tenth Companies. We do not take the Arclight. Instead Strike Force Atreus, as it came to be known, traveled in the Sword of Guilliman, one of the Chapter's Battle Barges. We march out from the Labyrinth and into Orphic Primaris, past the cheering citizens who are excused from their production quotas for this one chance to see the sons of Orpheus off to war on far away stars._

_The journey lasts six days. We arrived early, rendezvousing with the Imperial Fleet. As we come in we find out that we are not the only Astartes present in system. There is a great gray-blue ship bearing the symbol of the wolf._

_It's name is the Wrath of Fenris. The Space Wolves have come to honor their debt too._

_Then Tyranids come, in a great swarm, System monitors and the Imperial Navy join the fight to hold off the Kraken, but the Hive Fleet deposits it deadly cargo on the planet below. The invasion begins and Atreus dispatches his strike force to were they are most needed. For the first few days we fight off the vanguard swarms of the Tyranids in rapid strikes. Most of the xenos swarm gathers in the dust-wastes, marshaling before they strike the shrine-cities of Dameia._

_However, mighty as the sons of Guilliman are, we cannot win alone._

* * *

''They are coming then?'' Fenrik asked Agmund.

''Aye'' Agmund Firetooth scowled as he did so. The warrior was the son of a jarl to the North, who were been famed in their skill at hunting Kraken. Considering the present situation it was an almost amusing coincidence. Agmund's fiery red hair was braided with bands of copper and twine, casting his nickname well.

He wore the gray-blue of the Space Wolves well. One shoulder guard depicted the heraldry of Wolf Lord Krom Dragongaze. The other identified his pack markings as belonging to Krom's Wolf Guard. Over his shoulders he wore the night black hide of a Blackmane wolf. His frostblade was sheathed at his side. Fenrik was slightly shorter with long white-blonde hair and sharper features. He was from the Dragon Isles and the son of a blacksmith. He had earned his induction into the Chapter after he slew a Night-Troll in single combat.

Agmund was a rising star in the Great Company, having been promoted from the same pack as Fenrik over twenty years ago. Fenrik had defended a bridge against a host of orks, allowing a group of refugees to escape, and Agmund had slain three greenskin chieftains. The advancement was something that made Fenrik's heart beat fiercely with pride.

However instead of joining their lord at his side, Krom Dragongaze sent them to mentor new packs of Blood Claws, figuring they were mature enough to lead, but young enough to emphasize with the newly blooded claws. On one hand it was a honor to lead a pack of the Chapter's recruits into battle at the behest of their lord. On the other hand...it was almost a torment to lead the chapter's new recruits into battle. Both of them hardly believed they were once like those Blood Claws only a few decades ago. They had been regulated into reigning in insolent pups to the duration of the campaign.

Krom Dragongaze received word of Dameia's distress only a few weeks ago and hastened to defend the world. He had been far from Fenris, pursuing a Eldar witch-lord across the stars, but he had changed his objective to defend the shrine world that Russ had liberated from xenos domination ten millenia ago.

Fenrik was satisfied. The Xenos swarm would come, and the Wolves would break them.

Agmund was restless, his warrior's soul called out for glory and action. But there would be none until the Tyranids reached the large factory cities of Dameia. Most of the outer settlements and towns on Dameia had been evacuated into the eight cities. Krom Dragongaze led most of the Great Company in delaying the vanguard swarms. Such action for ambushes required stealth and patience, none of which the Blood Claws had. So the Blood Claws had been garrisoned in the cities where they had grown restless. Fenrik had to emphasize with them. He, Jorin and Agmund busied themselves with training and feasting in preparation for the murder-make.

And then the Praetors had landed.

The Wolves had received little word from their brother Chapter until their leader had requested an audience with their command post. Krom Dragongaze was unavailable, so Jorin Stormhammer, Krom's senior Wolf Guard, was to receive the visitors instead. Agmund was displeased at the news. Their were seventy regiments of Imperial Guard alongside millions of PDF, but he believed that the Space Wolves would form the cornerstone of the Imperial defense and the tip of the Imperial spear when the inevitable counterattack would come.

The Wolves needed no help, especially not from Guilliman's starch arses.

Fenrik wasn't so sure. While he had little desire to follow the dictates of Guilliman's book, he knew that the honor records of the Praetors were well-earned. However what truly sat ill with him was their connection to the Mechanicus. The Wolves had Iron Priests of course, and all Astartes chapters employed Techmarines. But the Praetors enjoyed something more than a mere training pact. Some said they served the Mechanicus over the Emperor.

Fenrik doubted those rumors himself, but you never knew.

The Space Wolves walked through the carved, votive halls of the Venetratus. In the aftermath of Dameia's liberation ten thousand years ago, shrines to the liberators had been set up. The Emperor was revered as their savior and his sons as heroes. The Venetratus was one of the largest shrines on Dameia and the Space Wolves had taken it as their command post and place of residence. The shrine was ten stories tall, topped with icons of golden eagles and carved silver wolves. Alongside it's walls were depictions of Space Wolf warriors in archaic armor defeating greenskins and casting the xenos from Dameia. The Ultramarines featured, but only to the sides of the frescoes. The Venatratus was a shrine mostly focused to Russ.

Inside the Venetratus, banners of the Great Company were hung. Rooms were cleared out for feasting tables and wolfskins were spread. This place would be a home away from home for the Wolves. Outside the Iron Priests had fortified the already formidable building. Extending to the shrine was a spaceport. In peacetime it was used to transport visitors to the shrine. However in wartime it had been a place of access for the Space Wolf Thunderhawks and transports, used to ferry warriors and supplies from orbit to the ground.

Auto-doors slid open, the machine spirits recognizing the two Wolf Guard as they stepped out into the wide tarmac of the landing pads. Fenrisian bondsmen equipped with glow-flags and landing equipment waved down a great blue and white vehicle. Fenrik instantly recognized the boxy form of a Thunderhawk. He had ridden in them countless times before. However it was still somewhat of a new experience to see the vehicle in blue and white, instead of the blue-gray of Fenris.

''And here they are.'' Agmund said softly.

* * *

Inside the _Eagle's Wing_ Nicanor felt the power pack plug into his suit of Mark VII armor. All around him his squad hooked up to their backpacks and donned their helmets, running through their diagnostic and weapons checks. Nicanor finished the ritual quickly and efficiently before glancing at Heliocles.

The Librarian sat at the end of the Thunderhawk. His armor was mostly blue with only one white shoulder-guard. His face was broad and handsome in a sort of drawn, gaunt way. His skull was shaved with the mechanics of his psy-hood plugged into the access ports on his skull. He carried an ornately detailed force halberd in his hands. Scrolls of purity and wisdom hung from his shoulder guards. Epistolary Heliocles was one of the most senior officers of the Chapter and one of the most powerful psykers the Praetors had. He had been assigned to the Third Company for the mission, intended to counter the effects of the Hive Mind and to aid Atreus in any way he could.

With Atreus leading his men at the front lines, the Captain sent Heliocles to meet with the Wolves and discuss tactics and strategies until the Captain completed his strikes against the vanguard swarms. Squad Nicanor had been selected as an honor guard for the Librarian.

Nicanor felt uneasy around Heliocles, as did his squad. Technically the psyker was a mutant, a witch, something that Astartes were expected to fight against and abhor. Yet Heliocles was also an Astartes and a fellow son of Guilliman to boot. He had went through the same training and was born on the same world. Nicanor knew he could trust the Librarian with his life, but...

…...Their was something strange and unsettling about Heliocles. Something _unnatural_. Ceranus supposed that it was the warp about him. Nicanor was no expert in such matters. Instead he merely obeyed the commands of his Captain an followed the Librarian's orders. If Heliocles was offended or unsettled by his brothers' attitude, he gave no sign. Merely a permanent, slight smile on his features.

''We already went over this-'' Heliocles began. His voice was smooth and calm with an almost relaxing quality to it, but there was almost a smug undertone in it. Blue lights flickered in his dark eyes briefly.

''-But I will go over it again. As you all know, the Space Wolves are our cousins of a sort. Their Primarch was Guilliman's brother and had fought alongside him in many campaigns. Both Primarchs liberated this world, and I expect you to give them the utmost respect.'' he started.

Nicanor knew that the Space Wolves last fought with the Praetors two millenia ago. Chapter records about that campaign had mostly been concerned with details of tactics used against the orks that the two Chapters fought, along with a few thinly disguised remarks about the Wolves's barbaric nature. The Praetors knew of the Wolves's famously independent and wild nature. That kind of behavior sat poorly with the Praetors of Orpheus who had conducted their battles according to the Codex Astartes and were raised in the spartan labyrinth-cities of Orpheus.

Not to mention their own..._unique_ traits. The histories of the Chapter recorded instances of minor mutations among the Wolves. That was another thing that made Nicanor uneasy. The Praetors, like most of the Second Founding had maintained pure geneseed since the day they had been founded by Roboute Guilliman.

But to see such mutation in fellow Astartes was disquieting.

Nicanor had fought alongside other chapters before, of course. He had fought alongside the Iron Champions, the Genesis, the Ultramarines and the Imperial Fists. While the Praetors had exemplary service with those chapters it had always been dogged by an undercurrent of distrust. It was mostly because of their attachment to the Mechanicus. The Praetors embraced their technologies and Techmarines. In the Praetors the Techmarines were not shunned, but respected and honored. All Praetors were expected to honor the ancient treaties binding the Praetors and the Mechanicus together.

Nicanor cared little of what others thought of the Chapter's relationship with Mars.

_We serve the Emperor above all else,_ he thought. _We know where our loyalties are._

''Do not remark upon the Codex Astartes. Be curt, reserved, but respectful. If the Wolves insist on telling you about the latest ork they have slain, then listen politely. If they offer you a drink, take it.'' Heliocles rattled off as his own power pack connected.

''Wolves,'' Ceranus muttered, shaking his helmeted head. ''Why did it had to be Wolves? Why not the Genesis? Or better yet the Ultramarines?''

''Oh I wish,'' Protus nodded. Despite the training exercises the new squad members had not really melded fully with the older members of Squad Nicanor.

''They are barbarians,'' Heron said. ''They believe they are too good for the Codex? Too good for ten millenia of battle-tested doctrine and the words of our Primarch? What arrogance and stupidity.''

''They obey their Primarch as we obey ours, it's too be expected after all.'' Lukias said.

''You would side with the wolf men?'' Nicanor imagined that Protus was raising an eyebrow beneath his helm.

''I pay respect to fellow warriors.'' Lukias replied.

''Drunks more like it.'' Ceranus muttered.

There were a series of chuckles from Protus and Heron.

''What did I just say?'' Heliocles interrupted softly.

The chuckles stopped.

''I do believe I just told you to be respectful to our comrades,'' Heliocles remarked casually. ''I would hate to think you are disobeying my orders.'' he leaned back.

''My apologies Brother-Epistolary.'' Protus bowed his head. Heron followed a few seconds later, then Ceranus.

''You are assigned five extra hours of firing practice on the _Sword of Guilliman_ when we return,'' Heliocles admonished them.

There was silence for a few seconds.

''About that drunkenness-'' Apion began.

_''What did I just say?''_ asked Heliocles.

''I mean no insult, I was simply wondering how they got drunk, an Astartes's body is highly resistant to poisons. Myself and Daecus once drank wine all day and we did not get dunk. Do you remember that Dae?'' Apion asked.

''Sure, sure. I drank nineteen bottles and barley felt a tingle,'' Daecus nodded. ''I've heard of mortals talk about drunkenness and hangovers. I am mildly curios to see what it's like.''

''Curiosity can be dangerous sometimes.'' Nicanor commented.

''I am confident in my ability to guard against alcohol.'' Apion deadpanned.

''You will be able to ask that yourselves then.'' Rhesus pointed out. The Thunderhawk's landing runes flashed as the door dropped.

''Let's go.'' Nicanor commanded.

The Praetors piled out, moving in a Codex-pattern honor guard formation, five to each side, forming a pathway for Heliocles to walk out. The Librarian exited the Thunderhawk, his halberd resting in hand. There was a small smile on his face.

There were two Wolves to greet them. Nicanor felt almost disappointed that there was no honor guard.

Nicanor took the opportunity to study them. One of the Wolves was red haired with a great beard and wearing a black wolfskin cloak. The other was a scarred blonde warrior with his white blonde hair pulled back into a topknot. Their armor was blue-gray with images of wolves depicted on their shoulder guards. Tribal fetishes and wolf teeth hung from necklaces and runic script was engraved on their greaves and vambraces.

''I am Epistolary Albian Heliocles of the Praetors of Orpheus, I greet you sons of Russ.'' Heliocles nodded respectfully.

The red-haired one looked at Heliocles with a sour look. The blonde haired one intervened.

''You are a wyrd?'' he asked.

''If by 'wyrd' you mean 'psyker', then yes I am wyrd,'' Heliocles smiled. ''I am in command for this delegation, now I am informed that Lord Dragongaze is not present, however one of his lieutenants is here, correct?''

''Did the wyrd tell you that?'' the red-haired one said.

''Maybe.'' Heliocles gave a ghostly smile.

''I forgot to introduce ourselves. I am Fenrik Iceclaw,'' the blonde one said, nodding his head. His green eyes flickered to look at his companion.

''…...I am Agmund Firetooth.'' the red-haired Wolf finally said.

''This is Squad Nicanor, commanded by as you have guessed, Sergeant Nicanor,'' Heliocles indicated Nicanor. ''Now that's out of the way shall we come in?''

* * *

''I don't think Jorin will be happy that we brought him a wyrd, especially one of Guilliman's trained witches.'' Agmund huffed, looking down below at the groups of Blood Claws as they sparred with deactivated chainblades.

Fenrik was inclined to agree. Unlike the Rune Priests of Fenris, who drew their power from the storm-spirits of the planet. Psykers drew their power from the Warp, the providence of daemons and magicks. In all making them rather untrustworthy. Fenrik was always amused by the fact that the Wolves even needed psykers to even fight. Without Astropaths and Navigators no Wolf fleet would be able to safely travel the Sea of Stars in the Allfather's name. That the Imperium distrusted psykers, yet relied upon him was an interesting paradox.

''I trust Old Jorin will deal with it, the psyker won't try any tricks on him,'' Fenrik supposed. Jorin Stormhammer was a bear of a man, massive in his ornate Terminator Armor. Almost half of his body was replaced with augmetics and flesh grafts over his five centuries of service to Russ. He was one of Krom Dragongaze's most trusted huscarls.

Below them Floke, one of Agmund's Blood Claws, was knocked back by a knuckle punch to the face by Dagur, one of Fenrik's initiates. Fenrik grunted in approval.

''A cheap blow.'' Agmund cast a disapproving eye.

''You used that one of Varkus to take out that ork yourself.'' Fenrik reminded his friend.

''That's because he was a xenos, you don't use that against a fellow Wolf.'' Agmund said.

Down below Einar, the Blood Claw pack leader of Agmund's group, copied the move and sent his opponent stumbling back.

''You were saying?'' Fenrik asked.

''What were you saying?'' a voice came behind themselves.

Agmund turned around, looking at the forms of four Praetors coming into the training arena. It was the Sergeant Nicanor and three others walking in. Their helmets were scanning the place, taking in details.

Or searching for threats, Fenrik supposed. He gave a small smile. If they were looking for a fight he would give them one.

Agmund sniffed in the air. The Praetors had a scent of lapping oils and unguents about them. Along with a distinctive rocky smell. They smelled of chemical anointment that the Iron Priests sometimes used to maintain the Chapters' vehicles. Their armor was white trimmed in blue. Overall they had a very clean, tech-filled appearance. One of the Astartes was wearing an ancient Mark IV plate, the other a Mark VI. The other two wore Mark VII.

''Is there something funny?'' the one called Nicanor asked Fenrik.

''Nothing,'' The Wolf Guard shook his head. ''Just a private joke.''

''I've got a question of my own,'' Agmund said, eyes narrowing. ''Why are you here? In our arena?''

Nicanor shrugged, the servos in his power armor whining softly. ''Epistolary Heliocles had already taken care of the briefing with your commander. He told us to deploy and intermix with you.'' he explained.

Just like them, always following things to the letter. Fenrik thought. He knew the Praetors, robotic and inflexible as they were must be typical of the average Codex chapter.

''Why don't you take off your helm?'' Agmund said.

''Why?'' one of the other Praetors asked.

''Do you think you're too good for us Wolves in your _parade armor_?'' Agmund pressed, adding a bit of emphasis to the last bit. Fenrik himself was wondering the same thing himself.

''No, but I hardly see why it matters.'' Nicanor said. He removed the helmet seals and lifted it off his face, revealing his features for the first time.

Nicanor's skin was pale, as if he were someone who had spent a large time underground. His features were fairly typical of the Astartes broadness, with a knife-like nose and strong features. His dark hair was cut short and he had gray-blue eyes. He looked almost alien compared to features of the Wolves. The others removed their helmets. They all looked similar to one another to an extent. An affect of the geneseed, Fenrik supposed. It was Guilliman's features. The one with the Mark IV armor had blonde hair, while the Mark VI marine was bald.

''Are you satisfied?'' Nicanor said with a slight smile in his features. He cast his gray-blue eyes over to the arena below. ''Your new recruits?'' he asked.

''Aye Warriors of Fenris, warriors' born.'' Agmund said with relish, looking back down at his pack.

''We have some of our own on Dameia, but they are deployed elsewhere. My own squad was recently reenforced.'' Nicanor said.

''I believe they are under Saevius's command.'' the blonde Praetor added.

''That's right Lukias.'' Nicanor nodded.

Fenrik knew that the Ultramarines and their successors organized their initiates into Scouts. It always seemed strange to him to put your most inexperienced warriors in that kind of work, whereas the Wolves used hardened veterans for that knife-work. It was odd, but then again Fenrik supposed the entire way of Codex fighting was odd to the Wolves.

''Fenris, that sounds like it's an interesting world,'' the youngest of the Praetors said. ''I'm interested.'' the bald one glanced at him.

Fenrik opened his mouth and paused. How does one explain the burning summers and the ice winters of Fenris to an outsider. How does one explain the thrill of the hunt for Fenrisian elk and the difficulty of simply surviving?

He couldn't.

''I was born to the Northern Isles, clutching a axe since my birth-caul. I slew my first man at the age of five. I killed my first wolf at the age of ten. This one came at my entrance into the Chapter.'' Agmund pointed to the black maned pelt on his back. His blue eyes looked at Nicanor.

''What have _you_ done by comparison?'' Agmund almost sneered.

Nicanor took the question differently then Fenrik expected. He looked almost thoughtful instead of angry.

''When I was a child,'' he began. ''I was placed in a collective with the other children of my district. We were drilled to be soldiers, warriors and workers since as far as I can remember. I was taught to fight from birth.'' Nicanor said, eyes lost in reminiscence.

''I learned to shoot a lagsun and handle a knife before I could walk. Food was rationed and we were expected to work at the forges, practice our weapons and conduct hunting patrols through the deepest caverns of Orpheus''

''For my initiation into the Chapter I was selected after the Chaplains held the traditional combat games in Orphic Primaris. Then I was expected to make it through the Labyrinth of the Deeps, through total darkness. I could barely see past my own arms in that place. Once there I was expected to avoid or kill any creatures there. Rock vipers who would kill a man with a single bite, Cave Bears as big as a Rhino and with claws three feet long. Blood sucking nightshrikes, rival initiates and more.''

''I succeeded, bringing back the broken carcass of a rock viper and presented it to my recruiting sergeant. It's skull is mounted somewhere on my Fortress-Monastery back on Orpheus.'' Nicanor recalled.

''Is that what you wanted?'' the Sergeant asked.

While Fenrik doubted that life on Orpheus was as dangerous or testing as his homeworld, he revised his opinion of the Praetors a bit. Obviously these Astartes knew business..

Agmund looked unimpressed. ''Really? You should show me your flint then.''

''Excuse me?''

''Fight one of my pups Praetor! They need the practice, or are you too scared?'' Agumund inquired, showing his fangs in a grin as he did so.

''A fight? I don't exactly understand what you need to prove-''

''I'll do it sir.'' the younger Praetor said.

''No, If he insists I'll do it.'' Nicanor shook is head.

''I don't think this is what Heliocles meant.'' Lukias deadpanned.

''Fenrisans brawl all the time. It's how your people earn respect? Isn't it?'' he asked Fenrik. Without waiting for an answer Nicanor turned at Lukias. ''If they want it then I shall oblige them if needed.''

''Excellent.'' Agmund chuckled. He looked back down for a Blood Claw.

''Einar! Enough! Prepare yourself pup! You face one of Guilliman's boys!'' Agmund's voice was loud, reverberating over the chamber. ''He shouldn't be too hard for you eh?''

''Those are your recruits? I am a veteran of over a century of service to my Chapter. It seems unfair.'' Nicanor noted.

''Einar will be enough.'' Agmund smirked.

* * *

Nicanor stood in the center of the former storage facility. In the past it had been used to store old relics and records. Since the Wolves had arrived they had turned it into a training ground for their Blood Claws until they were needed at the front lines. To the sides the Blood Claws had stopped their training, instead gathering to watch the fight. Behind him the Praetors observed.

Nicanor thought himself rather foolish for taking up this challenge. But then he remembered Heliocles's lectures. The Wolves were barbarians. They did not respect medals or honors. They cared only for strength and primal bravery. This was the only way to win their respect.

He was still clad in his power armor, as was his opponent. The Space Wolf had dirty blonde hair and a short, poorly trimmed beard and sideburns. The Wolf's hair was braided with iron rings. His foe's face was young, with only small fangs beginning to develop. His power armor was rather unadorned compared to the more ornate Wolf Guard war plate, but he had a a torc around his neck and a set of wolf tails hanging from one shoulder guard. He wore a dark gray wolf pelt over his war plate. He carried a deactivated chainblade in one hand.

''Hello.'' the Praetor said.

''I'm Einar, bondsman to Dragongaze, taker of heads, crusher of daemons.'' Einar grinned, cracking his neck from side to side. Both combatants were unarmed. Einar was pumped and ready to go.

Nicanor blinked. ''Good for you,'' he cocked his head. ''I am Nicanor.'' he said simply.

''Shall you show me what you're made of then, Praetor.'' Einar dropped into a fighting stance.

''You are that eager? Are their any rules that you have?''

''Anything goes save death.'' with that Einar launched him.

Nicanor brought up his own deactivated power sword to block the first strike. He ducked the swinging blow the Space Wolf sent him as the Blood Claw's features snarled with a bloodthirsty grin. Einar attacked with great gusto, launching a barrage of slashes and kicks that a normal human would have been hard pressed to follow. The Blood Claw's fighting style emphasized direct blows with little subtlety. A normal human would have been shredded in seconds, crushed the the sheer ferocity of the Wolf's blows or mowed down by the eye-blurring speeds Einar was going at.

Nicanor by contrast simply reacted.

His sword countered the chainblade strikes with the measured precision of a veteran. He fell not only into the sword-fighting forms of the Codex Astartes, but into the Orphic close-quarter style of pankration. No blow was wasted, nothing with any more force than it had to be. The Wolf was strong, he had to admit. Physically stronger than he was at any rate. But it wasn't strength that always decided battles.

Their blades locked as Einar shoved forward this time two-handed. Nicanor obligingly gave ground before sweeping the Wolf's legs under him. Einar hit the ground with a thud as Nicanor's sword knocked his chainblade out of his hand with a quick blow.

''Any more?'' Nicanor asked, deftly avoiding Einar attempts to kick his feet under him. The Blood Claw merely grinned and got back up with surprising speed despite his power armored bulk, launching himself at Nicanor.

If this had been a real battle Nicanor would have cut the Wolf in half with his energy-sheathed blade. However this was not a real battle and Nicanor hesitated in his blow, the blade merely skimming off the Wolf's pauldron instead.

Einar headbutted the Praetor back, sending Nicanor stumbling. The Blood Claw leapt in, trying to wrestle the sword away from Nicanor instead of reclaiming his own blade. For a moment the two Astartes struggled for the blade. Nicanor felt blood run down his forehead as his larraman cells clotted the blow that the Space Wolf had given him. Einar's breath, hot and rank, smelling of alcohol and meat, washed over him. The Space Wolf's features were twisted with joy. He was winning the control of the sword slowly.

So Nicanor let it go.

Caught off balance Einar stumbled, dropping his guard for a moment. He recovered quickly, but not quickly to escape Nicanor's left hook sending him spinning back. Einar spat out a fang before he took another two-handed blow to the face. Nicanor's blade fell out of his hands. The Praetor retrieved his blade, standing over the fallen Blood Claw. His superhuman muscles protested at the fierce workout that the Wolf had put him through, but he had won. His blade tip now hovered over the Wolf's throat. Einar opened his eyes.

''Do you yield?'' said Nicanor spitting out a tooth. Einar looked up and merely grunted an affirmative. Slowly, Nicanor drew the blade back and stepped back.

Einar got up, flexing his next back, inspecting his lost tooth. He began to chuckle. Nicanor looked at his strangle. The rest of Einar's pack started to laugh as well.

''What's so funny?'' he asked.

''I've never lost a tooth in a fight before,'' Einar snorted with mirth. ''And now some Ultramarine-''

''-Praetor of Orpheus.'' Nicanor corrected.

''-Whatever, knocks my tooth out? Classic stuff there.'' Einar inspected Nicanor's face.

''I got your nose.'' he smirked.

Indeed, Einar's headbutt had broken his nose. Almost absentmindedly Nicanor reset it. He had suffered far worse before.

Fenrik came alongside, slapping Nicanor's shoulder guard. ''Looks like you can brawl after all. Can you believe it Agmund?'' he asked. The other Wolf Guard looked like he had swallowed a sour grape.

''Still, if it was me, you would have lost.'' Fenrik grinned.

Nicanor considered the statement for a moment, then decided to err on the side of cation. He did not need another fight. ''I'm sure.''

''This deserves some ale, not the local kind but real stuff. We'll have your head spinning in no time.'' The Wolf Guard said.

Nicanor glanced at Lukias who was mouthing no.

''I'm afraid we don't drink ale.'' he said.

Fenrik stopped laughing and looked dubiously at Nicanor. ''Don't tell me you drink wine! That's a woman's-''

''-Engine oil.'' Nicanor interrupted.

''What?''

''We drink engine oil. It hardens the heart before battle,'' Nicanor said with a perfectly clam face. ''Maybe you would like to try some?''

Fenrik studied his features for a few seconds, trying to see if Nicanor was joking.

Behind them a Blood Claw turned to Daecus.

''Do you really drink oil?''

Daecus raised an eyebrow.

''Well what do you think?''


	5. Wolves Part Two

**Author's Note:** This is the second part to the Wolves short story. I do hope I got the Wolves's personalities for this.

Reviews and Comments welcome.

**Wolves Part 2**

* * *

Jorin Stormhammer looked over the tactical readouts before him. The Veneratus boasted a conference room of it's own, originally used for the shrine's keepers, it had been modified by Krom Dragongaze's Iron Priests to provide a place were the Wolf Lord and his pack leaders could oversee the tactical situation on Dameia.

Across him was the Praetors Librarian, Heliocles, with two of his honor guard. The Librarian's features were coolly composed, but with a somewhat smug, fey quality that irritated Jorin a bit. But he really had nothing to dislike the Librarian for. Of course he was a psyker, and Jorin knew full well the dangers of psykers. He himself much preferred dealing with his own Chapter's Rune Priests. There was something more reassuring dealing with the sons of the storm than this one.

''Is this true?'' he said to the thrall next to him. The bondsman had come in with news from Hjalmar's Grey Hunter pack, and it was not good.

''Of course my lord,'' the thrall said. ''Hjalmar has confirmed his position himself.'' he reported.

Jorin looked back on the data-set. The position of Hjalmar's pack was located over forty clicks from the closest Imperial lines. All across Dameia hundreds of thousands of settlers from the minor ash waste towns were begin evacuated into the main shrine-cities. Entire Imperial Guard regiments had been fighting a running battle with the advance Tyranid swarms.

''Your men are stranded I guess?'' asked Heliocles.

Jorin looked up at him. ''Did the wyrd tell you that?''

''No, not really,'' Heliocles shrugged. ''It was a guess, nothing more.'' he looked at the data again.

''Their Thunderhawk was shot down after they finished engaging one of the Kraken-swarms,'' Jorin noted. ''Dagur is there, along with Hjalmar. Without him our forces cannot extract our geneseed''

''Your Wolf Priest I presume?'' asked Heliocles. ''So you are going to depart soon, of course?'' he said.

''Of course, I'm not some old barmaid,'' Jorin snapped. He turned to the thrall. ''Prepare Jotun Six and my Land Raider, have my Grey Hunters plus Agmund's pack to come along, Fenrik will stay behind and hold the base.'' Jorin explained.

''You seem to have a problem.'' Heliocles noted.

''Damned right I do, or were you not-''

''No I mean your support, if the tactical data here is correct, the Tyranids are closing in fast.'' Heliocles said.

''And what about it? We've faced worst.'' Jorin responded.

''Then we are coming along, we have a Thunderhawk of our own, you have only one present at this base, the rest are with your Great Company in the field or in ships.'' the Librarian explained.

Jorin looked at him suspiciously. ''Why?'' he asked.

''You are our allies are you not? Our gene-fathers helped liberate this world. I was originally sent in to cooperate with you, this seems a good time as any.'' Heliocles explained.

Jorin looked at him for a few moments, before turning to the thrall.

''Belay that last order, Have Fenrik's group meet the Praetors.''

* * *

Nicanor put on his helmet again as the _Eagle's Wing _hurled through the air. A familiar display of tactical readouts and targeting systems appeared. One by one the life runes of his squad showed up, each linked to Second Squad's heart rate and current metabolism. He activated his bolter link and lined it up for a moment, testing it.

Once that was done he gave a quick prayer of thanks to the machine spirit before looking about. The rest of his squad was doing the same thing, preparing their armor and weapons. Lukias sheathed his combat blade by his side as Ceranus checked the action on his scoped bolter one last time. Apion hefted his flamer again, flexing his freshly healed arm. Rhesus finished checking the ammo feed on his heavy bolter before setting it across his lap.

The Blood Claws of Fenrik's pack by contrast were conversing themselves in Fenrisian. From their tone Nicanor assumed they were joking. Even so they were checking and readying their weapons in a practiced manner. They carried bolt pistols and chainblades instead of the standard bolter of the Praetors' tactical squads. Nicanor knew the Blood Claws were the new recruits of the Wolves, but it astounded him to see such inexperienced warriors armed for the bloodiest duties. In the Praetors of Orpheus initiates were expected to hone their skills in a squad in the Scouts before earning power armor. The whole manner of the Wolves smacked out of arrogance and recklessness.

The Blood Claws had a variety of wolf talismans and rune markings on their armor. Some had wolf pelts draped across their armor. Others had collections of wolf tails and skulls. All had their helmets off, exposing scarred, weatherbeaten young faces, eager for the conflicts ahead. Nicanor caught the appearance of fangs briefly. Beside him, Fenrik moved up. He had a ornate power axe with the image of a silver wolf carved into the haft. He had a wolf-headed helm at his side, an ornate piece that was obviously handcrafted by some great Fenrisian artificer. He looked Nicanor over.

''Is this how you prepare?'' he asked, this time in Low Gothic.

''Yes you ignoramus, this is how we prepare.'' Heron privately voxed over the squad net. Nicanor ignored him and activated his external address.

''We have already completed our weapons and armor checks. Next comes the Rites of Battle. I will lead since our Chaplain is not here,'' Nicanor said. He coked his head at Fenrik. ''Your warriors wear no helms?'' he asked. Indeed, all the Fenrisians had their helms at their sides.

''Aye, It's too stuffy.'' Fenrik nodded.

''Stuffy?'' Daecus asked.

''We need to smell the blood of our enemies, feel the wind on our face and taste victory. You can't do that sealed up,'' Fenrik suggested. ''It's the Fenrisian way.''

''I see'' Nicanor remarked. He thought it made little sense to wear power armor and then expose the most important organ in your body to enemy fire. He saw little reason not to put on the helm. The helmet provided an extensive suite of auto-senses, targeters and a vox system. Even if the Wolves really did posses enhanced sense, the benefits of helmets vastly outweighed the supposed downsides.

''Why do you ask about it?'' Fenrik asked dubiously.

''Nothing,we must complete my preparations and complete the _Lament of the First_.'' Nicanor replied.

''And that is?'' Fenrik raised an eyebrow.

''Understand this Space Wolf, we hate the Tyranids. We hate them more than any other xenos. They invaded Ultramar, the cradle of our Founding Legion and the place were our Primarch sits.'' he leaned in, eye lenses gleaming.

''What do you Fenrisians call it...a blood-foe?'' he asked.

''True,'' Fenrik nodded. '' We have our own blood-foes, the warlocks of Magnus-''

''-And they threatened your homeworld one correct?'' Lukias asked. Nicanor glanced at him. ''What? I am a student of the old files in the Librarium.'' his second in command said.

''Yes, and then Bjorn, mighty be his name-''

''-Me?'' a Blood Claws called from the rear of the Thunderhawk.

''No you pup, pipe down,'' Fenrik called back. He turned back to Nicanor. ''His name is Bjorn too.''

''I'm guessing that's a popular name on Fenris?'' Protus said dryly.

''Oh you have no idea. Anyway what was the _Lament_?'' Fenrik asked.

'' Every year at the Labyrinth we celebrate the sacrifice of the Ultramarines First, who sold their lives to protect my Primarch who slumbers on Macragge. That is the kind of thing we will avenge down there.'' Nicanor said.

''That is why we hate.''

* * *

The twin Thunderhawks, Jotun Six and Eagle's Wing, roared ahead. Below them in the middle of a rocky ash waste, was Hjalmar's team of Grey Hunters, clustered around the wreck of a Thunderhawk. All around them hundreds of Tyranids swarmed through the dust storms. Reddish peaks of rock rose from the tan sands all around them.

Below the Wolves were mere gray specks.

The Tyranids blended into their surroundings well. They were red of carapace and tan of flesh. The Tyranid horde was a mass of chitin, fangs and claws. Swarms of scuttling Gaunts moved under the footsteps of a trio of monstrous beasts. Other weapon beasts and towering Tyranid warriors charged through the ash waste, kicking up thick palls of dust. Bolters fired at extreme range as Hjalmar's Grey Hunters took their mark. Gaunts exploded as the Tyranids moved in. Hissing streams of bio-plasma and flesh-borers arced into the broken ceramite of the Thunderhawk but the Wolves merely hunkered down and continued their fire. However they were barely slowing the Tyranid horde.

Overhead the Thunderhawks opened fire. Hellstrikes misses arced below, landing among the Tyranid horde. Entire clumps of Gaunts were blown to pieces, bits of chitin rained down on the monstrous horde. Heavy bolters chattered down as the Thunderhawks made a pass. Then, coming around again, the gray and white Thunderhawks launched a second pass. This time nose mounted cannons sent high-explosive shells into the midst of the Tyranid horde. A pair of Carnifexes were torn apart in a volley of shells, along with countless more xenos. Meanwhile the Thunderhawks disengaged what was left of their hellstrike payloads right into the devastated Tyranids.

The two Thunderhawks engaged their hover modes, settling down while their ramps opened. Below groups of Gaunts wandered through the thick smoke. Dozens exploded from the Grey Hunters' bolters as the Wolves sought to provide their brothers with covering fire. Hovering barely a dozen meters off the ground, the landing ramps dropped as the Blood Claws leapt down. A normal human would have been severely injured or killed by the fall, but the superhuman Astartes in the power armor barely stumbled as they came in, bolt pistols coughing.

''Here we are,'' Heliocles said. Behind him was Nicanor's squad. Lukias, Protus, Daecus, Apion Morovian, Heron, Rhesus, Ceranus, Verties and finally Nicanor himself.

''Good decision letting the Wolves go in and clear the path.'' Ceranus remarked.

''Jealous?'' Protus asked slyly.

''You wish.'' Ceranus snorted.

''Quiet, we have Tyranids to kill.'' Lukias reminded them.

''Now.'' Heliocles commanded.

The Astartes leapt down, their stabilized power armor easily absorbing the impact as dust filled the air briefly from their impact. All around them the shapes of Fenrik's Blood Claws were obscured by a tide of red and tan as they tore into the Kraken. Agmund and Jorin's packs were moving right towards Hjalmar's group as a swarm of Tyranids detached itself from the readily splintering horde and went straight for the stranded Grey Hunters, at their head was a particularly massive beast. Another came to flank the Blood Claws of Fenrik

The Praetors moved in with ruthless precision. Rhesus's heavy bolter mowed down scores of Gaunts while disciplined bolter fire from the squad cut down Tyranids like a farmer reaped wheat. Apion's flamer hissed out, sending gouts of flame. Heliocles's eyes flickered with warpfire as he pointed his halberd out. Vast plumes of coruscating warpfire lanced out into the greatest concentration of the Tyranids.

Nicanor felt elated. He grinned underneath his helm. He was killing the hated Tyranid, and nothing felt sweeter. It was like some sort of drug was pumping into his system. Each shot that connected with a snarling xenos face was a measure of revenge for those lost on Macragge. He had never killed Tyranids before, none of his squad had. However they had all experienced combat simulation in the Librarium's sensorium and had been fully briefed in Tyranid combat stratagems and their swarm tactics. He smelled the stink of xenos flesh and ichor even through his helmet filters.

Flesh-boring beetles landed on the Astartes's armor, trying to find a way to breach them. Nicanor tore them off with powerful tugs of his gauntlets, while Heliocles burned them off with his own mindfire. Tyranid weaponry was evidently not made with Astartes body armor in mind.

They were doing well, Nicanor could see. The Wolves hit the Tyranids swarms like a Fenrisian axe, ripping deep and slaying scores in a bloodthirsty charge. The Praetors by contrast were like a finely honed scalpel, clinically taking apart the forces of the Kraken. The flanking force they were engaging was a mixed group of hormagaunts and termagants, led by a towering Tyranid warrior who leapt with terrifying speed towards the Praetors, its wickedly sharp claws extended.

Heliocles spoke a word of power and a line of blue warpfire leapt up into existence. The Tyranid swarm, already thinned by the Praetors guns, were engulfed into it as they charged. Fresh volleys of bolter fire cut them all down. Ceranus himself claimed the leader with a single finely placed bolter shot to the head.

With another word the flames disappeared at Heliocles behest. ''Divide into two groups, Nicanor move in to flank the Tyranids.'' Heliocles said, turning around.

''Where are you going?'' Nicanor asked.

''To kill something.'' the Librarian said, before running off.

Nicanor was uneasy about leaving his charge, but the Librarian's orders could not be ignored. Like all good Astartes, Nicanor obeyed his superior's orders. Turning around he issued a series of clipped orders to his squad.

Rhesus, Heron, Velties, Daecus and Ceranus were to stay behind and offer fire support. Normally Lukias would command the fire support squad, but Nicanor wanted his knife fighting skills alongside him. Besides, Nicanor trusted Heron to command the group., The young Praetor was already showing good leadership skills. The rest of the Praetors advanced under the cover of Apion's flamer, ready to engage the Tyranids in the flank and aid Fenrik's group. It was fairly standard Codex Astartes doctrine, one that Nicanor and his squad had been well drilled in before.

Apion's flamer roasted a group of hormagaunts as they leapt towards Nicanor's squad. Three xenos exploded from well aimed shots by Nicanor. A hulking Tyranid warrior collapsed to the ground, snarling before the bolter round in its cranium detonated, courtesy of Lukias.

''Blades now.'' Nicanor ordered, drawing his power sword. It leapt to life in blue fire and he sliced apart a shrieking hormagaunt with a single blow. Another died at point blank range from his bolter, and two more were gutted.

Slicing talons dug gouges in his armor as hormagaunts swarmed about. Nearby Morovian stumbled as a claw tore into his knee. He clubbed the offender over the head, crushing the Tyranid's skull. Protus moved like quicksilver, his combat blade flashing. Lukias was like an artist at work, every knife strike and thrust carefully measured and conducted, seeking out carapace joints and throats.

Above Nicanor spotted a hulking Tyranid warrior fight a Blood Claw, the Space Wolf howled as he whipped forward, his armor slick with Tyranid ichor. The xenos wielded a pair of shimmering bone swords embedded in it's forearms. Casually it removed the Blood Claw's sword arm at the wrist before beheading the Wolf.

Two more Tyranid warriors followed it as it crashed into Nicanor's combat squad.

Lukias confronted one, his knife carving a pair of deep wounds from shoulder to hip. A scything talon whipped past his own defenses to tear through his armpit and down into his chest a pair of claws ripped through his gut before Lukias headbutted the Tyranid and shot it point blank. Protus and Morovian fought a four-clawed Warrior. Protus's body whipped around as he carved deep wounds into the Warrior, removing two limbs. However he left an opening as one diamond-hard claw ripped through his breastplate and ribcage. Morovian promptly throttled the Tyranid and tore its head off with his bare hands.

Nicanor gutted two more hormagaunts as his brought up his blade to counter a slashing bonesword that came twords him. His gauntlet servos whirred as he countered the blow. His eyes widened, this beast was strong, stronger than any Astartes he had sparred with. The other bonesword flashed but he was able to twist out of the way, seeing the blow coming before it landed. The xenos warrior's claws tore at his side, ripping through the ceramite with ease and gouging the flesh underneath.

The Tyranid warrior drove him back in a storm of flashing blades and claws. Its eyes were empty black pits, like a beast's. They were soulless eyes and they spurred Nicanor on with hatred.

From behind came a howl and a blazing axe removed the right blade-limb of the Tyranid warrior. The Tyranid snarled about, only to have an axe imbedded in its huge chest, ichor stained the blade as Fenrik tried to wrench his axe free.

Nicanor took advantage of the beast's distraction to bring his power blade around, decapitating the Tyranid warrior with one blow, the power field tearing through the neck with ease. The Tyranid dropped to the ground, head rolling about as the Tyranids around them shrieked and roared, fleeing as they did so. The Blood Claws snarled and leapt into their foes, running down as many of they could. Nearby the Praetors moved in, cutting down countless more with disciplined fire.

Nicanor looked at Fenrik. The warrior's face was covered in xenos ichor and his blonde hair was filthy and matted, but he had a wide grin.

''Warriors true eh, Praetor? Where that witch of yours'' he asked.

Nicanor was about to tell him never to refer to Heliocles in such a way again, before a xenos scream sounded behind them.

* * *

Jorin Stormhammer roared as he brought his thunder hammer down, crushing another of the termagants. All around him his own Grey Hunters and Hjalmar's pack were fending off a horde of xenos. Before Jorin's pack had came in and cut down most of the flanking swarm with their bolters. However the hulking leader beast that Imperial strategists had identified as a Terivigon vomited another clutch of termagants from it's womb, then another, and another until the Grey Hunters were swamped.

His hammer fell again and again while claws and talons rebounded off his Terminator armor and storm shield. He snarled. Unless they could kill the hulking beast in front of him and hack through the horde they could not win. Jorin had gotten close to the massive, shell-backed monster and landed several blows with his thunder hammer, but none of them were fatal and he was inevitably force back by a tide of termagants. The rest of his pack was similarly swamped.

Then a column of blue fire lanced through the air, roasting termagant after termagant. The Terivgon roared as Librarian Heliocles of the Praetors of Orpheus came running in, flames billowing out from his hands.

''Sons of Russ!'' He shouted.

Jorin had never been so glad to see the the witch of Guilliman, as soon as the flames ended he charged forward through the smoldering corpses of the termagants. His thunder hammer tore another massive wound on the monster's side, ripping off a limb. The Tyranid monster roared and smashed it's frontal limbs against the Wolf Guard's storm shield. The force field in the thing sparked briefly as his Terminator armor whined in protest as he matched it against the unnatural strength of the beast.

Then another funnel of blue fire came in separating the Wolf Guard and the Tyranid. The shell-backed beast was engulfed in blue fire, tearing into the wounds that Jorin had inflicted earlier and annihilating it's womb. Hissing and flaming the beast charged at the Epistolary. But Heliocles leapt to the side and rammed his halberd blade two handed through the beast's throat, through an earlier wound inflicted by Jorin. A powerful burst of warp energy filled the beast, scything through it's nervous system, annihilating it beyond even the Hive Mind's control.

Heliocles withdrew his blade as the flaming carcass of the beast collapsed. Now it was no more than an burned shell. With a howl Jorin brought his thunder hammer down, crushing the beast's skull, ending it one and for all. All around them the Tyranids howled and hissed before breaking off and losing all cohesion. The Grey Hunters answered with a howl of their own, driving forward with chainblades, fists and fangs, eager to exploit a weakness.

More blue flames burned termagants to death ad Jorin gazed as the form of Heliocles. The Librarian glanced at him briefly.

''Thanks.'' the Wolf Guard rumbled, before charging off again.

* * *

In the end, with the deaths of the Tyranid leader-beasts, the xenos horde was broken. The Grey Hunters were able to be extracted successfully to the Thunderhawks along with the rest of the Wolves and the Praetors. The Blood Claws would only stop their pursuit at the orders to Jorin himself, backed up by Fenrik and Agmund cuffing a few heads.

Six Wolves were slain in the battle, mostly Blood Claws, and seven more would slip into the Red Dream. All of their bodies had been retrieved from the battlefield and their wounds treated by the Wolf Priest.

As for the Praetors...

''Is he going to be fine?'' asked Nicanor to Dagur. The Sergeant's own wounds had been sealed up by himself. They were minor enough.

None of the Praetors had been slain, thanks to their conservative tactics. But Lukias, Morovian and Protus had all taken severe wounds, almost enough to kill them. Dagur himself tended to them after he had finished with the Wolves, mending their wounds with his balms. All three were stripped of their armor and lying in the Thunderhawk's storage bays.

Agmund had protested that a Fenrisian Priest tending to the wounds of the Praetors, but Jorin overruled him. The Praetors had proved themselves as worthy allies in the field of battle and they would not have been able to win without them.

''Good, you Orpheans are tough bastards,'' Dagur noted. ''They should recover quickly.'' his fearsome wolf skull mask was off, exposing his heavily lined features and white hair.

''You have the thanks of the Praetors.'' Nicanor nodded. As much as he appreciated the Wolf's help, he much rather preferred for a Praetors Apothecary to look over his brothers.

''Nicanor,'' a voice said from behind him. The Praetor looked around. It was Fenrik.

''Yes?'' he asked.

''I have a present.'' the Wolf Guard announced, dropping an object at Nicanor's feet. He picked it up. It was a black claw, severed from some sort of Tyranid beast. Nicanor looked up.

''A present?''

''A trophy. We are a proud lot, but we recognize allies when we see it, consider this our thanks. After all, we had no engine oil.'' Fenrik grinned.

Nicanor held up the claw.

''Nice'' Apion nodded.


	6. Faith

**Faith**

* * *

_I am Varion Nicanor._

_Son of Orpheus, Inheritor of Guilliman_

_The Third and Sixth Companies rest in Dalium with the Space Wolves. The days of harrying the Tyranid vanguard swarms are over. Now the xenos assault the capital of Dameia itself in all their twisted horror and strength._

_Lord Emperor…..the sheer amount of Tyranids still surprises me. Mountains of corpses are piled in front of the defensive lines. But it's not enough. The Tyranids force themselves through at a great cost._

_For the first two weeks the Tyranids flounder after their initial gains into the outer reaches of Dalium. We Praetors are at the front lines, fighting alongside the mechanized brigades of the Imperial Guard and the Space Wolves themselves. I've long since lost count of the amount of Tyranids I've killed. Atreus plans each of his ambushes and surgical strikes with masterful precision. Dozens of synapse creatures, spawning pools and Tyranid bio-beasts are destroyed by the Third and Sixth._

_It seems our efforts are working. Along with the Sisters, the Wolves and the Guard we have greatly reduced the Tyranid numbers and even begun to push the xenos back. Captain Atreus returns to us with plans of a combined assault. All branches of the Imperial military are planning a huge counteroffensive. The aim of this urban assault is simple. Strike through the former Temple districts and through the heart of the Tyranid swarms and chase them back into the ash wastes. The Third Company is given the honor of spearheading this assault._

_However my squad has another task._

_

* * *

_

Sister Vica fired her bolter at the hissing xenos. The three-round burst tore apart two leaping Hormagaunts as they rounded the corner. Next to her Sister Mei opened fire with her flamer, bathing the bounding aliens with promethium.

She looked about. Scores of Tyranid corpses covered the outer sanctum of the Minisotrum building her and her Sisters had taken cover in. She and the rest of her squad was part of a Commandery of the Order of the Argent Shroud sent into Dalium City's western districts to secure the main Temples there. It had been a week since the Tyranids had breached the capital city of Dameia. Uncounted hordes had come over the horizons.

At first they were beaten back by the city's defenses. But gradually the Tyranids came in over a mountain of their own corpses. Specially bred siege beasts tore apart the outer walls and disgorged horded of assault troops. As they came in the outer districts erupted into bloody fighting.

So far contact with the rest of her order had been lost and the PDF network was a total mess. Her squad was now down to half strength, Sister Superior Galatea herself was slain early on by a fleshborer round through her gorget. Only Sisters Mei, Priscilla, Leeta, Mara and Sara remained with her. Her death had been agonizing, with beetles crawling through her throat and lungs. Mei put her out of her misery by flaming her body before the accused xenos were able to defile it further. Vica's squad now stood at half strength.

''Is there no end in sight?'' asked Priscilla. Like the rest of her Sisters she wore gunmetal steel power armor, with blue and white surplices over that. The woman was the oldest of the squad, with bits of grey already running around her temples.

Vica looked out. In the skies the forms of winged Tyranid beasts could be seen dueling with Imperial Thunderbolts and interceptor craft under the Hive's Void Shields. Dalium was about to break under the Tyranid assault This was her third combat mission. She herself was only freshly graduated from the Schola Progenium. She had fought against chaos twisted rebels before but these Tyranids…it was shocking just how many there were. She feared that her squad would run out of ammunition before the Tyranids ran out of bodies.

Vica checked her vox-link again. ''The rest of the Commandery is not answering,'' she said softly. ''That means they are either dead or cut off from our position.'' she summarized.

''What do we do now?'' asked Sister Mei, a small, almond-eyed woman with a votive flamer.

''We stay and fight, this is the God-Emperor's holy ground'.' Pricilla said.

''What about the rest of our Sisters then?'' replied Sister Mara.

They all went quiet. On one hand they had orders to defend the Temple, however the place was half-ruined already, and no Sister would abandon her comrades if they could help it. Vica looked up at a massive gold statue of the God-Emperor before her.

What should I do? She asked herself mentally.

The statue's empty eyes bored into her, as if searching her soul.

''Sister Vica,'' Mei began. Alien hisses sounded as the Tyranids began a fresh assault. ''They come again!'' she pointed.

Seventy meters out at the end of the colonnaded hallways on the other side of the courtyard, the shapes of more Tyranids began to emerge. Bolter fire answered them as they leapt out into the Sisters pre-planned kill-zone. There were dozens upon dozens of the Tyranids leaping over the corpses of their brethren, bounding towards the Sisters. The bolters ran dry as the Tyranids surged forward, a pair of hulking alien beasts leading them.

Vica uttered a quick prayer as she coolly reloaded her weapon and trained it on the leader beast. The bolter kicked in her gauntlets briefly. Then the skull of the leader beast exploded in chips of alien ichor and bone. The corpse of the beast fell as two more leader-beasts took its place. Sister Mei added her flamer to her Sister's bolter volley. Hissing promethium incinerated the first leaping aliens as they rapidly closed over the devotional pews and shrines. Xenos forms writhed and blackened into ash.

They were closing, Vica realized. There was simply far too many xenos for the Sororitas to gun down and expect to survive the close quarter combat that would surely follow. They simply lacked the time and ammunition.

Then something happened.

A nearby mosaic simply exploded, as if a massive battered ram struck it. Chips of plaster flew from the wall along with jeweled shards as a massive shadow appeared. Rays of light peeked around the being's form as it stepped out into the outer temple. More promethium hissed from the warrior's flamer as the Tyranids were abruptly caught in a crossfire. Several more shapes came through the wall as more giant figures appeared, sending volleys of bolter fire into the Tyranids.

Under this new threat the xenos horde simply withered away.

Gaunt after gaunt was simply blown into bloodied scraps by bolter rounds or incinerated by waves of blessed promethium. Vica saw one of the tall elite-warriors be flamed repeatedly before being blown in half by a bolter burst.

In seconds the Tyranids were gone.

Vica glanced briefly at the forms. They were Astartes, she realized. She recognized the distinctive model of their power armor, similar yet different than the war plate that the Sororitas wore. Larger and filled with more advanced systems. The armor the warrior wore was pure white with blue trim. On one shoulder guard was the image of a starburst shield. Purity seals flapped briefly from his vambraces as the Astartes turned its archaic helm ever slow slowly to gaze at her.

Vica herself had never actually seen a member of the Emperor's Angels herself. She knew of them certainly, and she had researched actions in which the Sacred Rose had fought alongside the Adeptus Astartes before. It had been a mixed history, with some being noble allies and the some simply being barbarians. She knew of the Praetors of Orpheus of course. She had heard rumors about their connections to the Mechanicus. But she had also heard of their near-flawless service in the name of the God-Emperor. Compared to the Space Wolves, a Chapter which was at odds with the Ecclesiarchry, it was clear the Sisters preferred the Praetors.

Then he spoke.

''I am Lukias of the Praetors,'' he cocked his helmet slightly at one angle. ''These are my brothers, Apion, Rhesus, Heron and Protus.''

''Who are you Sister?''

* * *

Her name was Vica, Lukias learned, and her comrades were all that was left of the Sororitas force in this sector. He had already studied the combat briefings before his squad had been deployed into this area of course, but he had not expected to encounter the Sororitas already. He had thought they had already pulled out.

''We are rendezvousing with the rest of our squad'' he said to Vica, his vox-distorted voice deep.

He himself was leading a Combat Squad of Apion, Heron, Rhesus, Protus and himself to take point and clear out any xenos in the outer limits of the Temple itself. Nicanor considered it good practice for the newer members of his squad to blood themselves further. Apion had been brought along for the flaming duties.

''But why here of all places?'' asked Vica.

''Our Captain sent us on a mission into this area. We thought the Sororitas were deployed in far greater numbers. What happened?' Lukias asked.

Vica glanced briefing another Sororitas. Revealing your own personal failures in front of an outsider was not something they were used to, in the chapel in front of the God-Emperor yes, but not in front of outsiders.

It was a curious Sororitas custom Lukias knew, but he was patient.

''The Prioress was in defense of this table and central communications where lost.'' Mei said eventually. ''The rest of our Commandery lost cohesion in the temple. We retreated to this place and prepared to make a stand.''

''I see,'' Lukias was silent for a few moments. ''The rest of your order and my chapter are beginning a counterattack only a few kilometers away from here. We were sent to secure their flank. I would suggest you come along with us then.'' he offered.

Lukias watched as the Sisters turned to each other for a few moments. They exchanged no words. But there was some kind of deliberation taking place. Eventually their apparent leader, Vica, spoke.

''We will come with you.''

* * *

Vica followed the Praetor called Lukias as he led her into the inner chapel of the Emperor. The Praetors moved smoothly and efficiently, with the kind of military precision she had seen only among the elite Celestians of her order. Of course what remained of her unit formed up as well, with her taking the point of the squad leader. The loss of Galatea had hit them hard but they remained strong. Surprisingly Vica saw that the rest of her sisters were unconsciously following her.

She didn't know whether to be pleased or nervous.

Lukias held up a hand and everyone stopped. There was a faint click as the Astartes engaged some kind of internal vox system. After a few moments he nodded and they continued on. Rapidly Vica realized he was probably talking to the rest of his squad. Her suspicions were proven correct as they come into the central Chapel. Vica had been here a few times. The somber stone walls of the outer temple gave way to the gilded furnishings of the inner Temple. Tapestries and stained glass windows proclaiming the Emperor's might covered the walls. On each corner of the chapel was a statue of an Imperial Saint.

In the center of the Church was a raised pedestal with the Altar. Here the Priest would conduct his sermons on the nature of the God-Emperor to the people of Dameia and care for his flock. Above the altar was a giant statue of the Praetors' primarch. Roboute Guilliman. He held a sword raised high in the air with a double-headed eagle perched on his other upraised arm. A halo surrounded his head. Vica was educated enough on religious manners to know that each world interpreted the Imperial Cult differently. Worship on some worlds would be different than worship on Ophelia VII or Terra. Regrettably not all Imperial churches could be brought up to the Sisters standards, the Galaxy was simply far too big for that. The Dameians reverence of the savior Primarchs of the old was quaint but not uncommon among worlds liberated during the great Crusade.

From the sides more blue and white armored figures came. More Astartes. More Praetors. She spotted a warrior with a red-marked helmet step out from near the Altar. An ornate power sword was sheathed at his side.

''Good of you to return Lukias.'' the lead figure said. He nodded briefly to the Sister before taking his helm off. His features were strangely broad, in an inhuman sort of way. Vica had heard of the gigantism that the Astartes had, but she had never seen it up close.

He was human, almost handsome she realized. But any male beauty was ruined by a subtle sense of inhumanity and power about him. She knew the Astartes were no longer really human of course but to see it with her own eyes was shocking.

They were not mutants of course, Vica knew that well from her sermon briefings. They were warriors descended from the God-Emperor himself and the Sacred Rose's history was littered with proud examples of the Sacred Rose fighting alongside them. But Vica could not shake off that strange feeling of awe and dread at the back of her mind.

''I am Nicanor, commander of the Second Squad, Third Company,'' he nodded. ''This is Ceranus,'' he gestured to an Astartes with a bionic arm. ''And Morovian, Daecus and Verties.'' he swept his arm over the rest of his squad emerging from the pews.

He looked over the Sororitas ''You are Sacred Rose correct?'' he asked.

''That's right,'' Mei answered. ''I am Mei,'' she said. ''These are Sisters Sarah, Vica, Mara Europa and Aria.'' Nicanor looked around at them, his eyes flickering briefly.

''Where is your Sister Superior?'' he asked. But he already knew the answer.

''Dead.'' Mara said simply.

'I see, I commend her soul to the Emperor.'' Nicanor nodded.

''Yes, a tragic loss Brother-Sergeant, but should we not move on soon?'' a new voice joined the conversation. Vica looked around to see a giant figure emerge from the shadows. At first she began to wonder how such a large Astartes could hide so well when she noticed the blue armor and book device of the Astartes.

_A Librarian!_

The Librarian emerged, a figure clad in deep blue power armor. One shoulder pad and arm was painted white with the starburst shield symbol. The other shoulder guard bore a horned book. The Librarian's head was shaved bald and lined. His eyes flickered in an amused fashion. He carried an ornate force halberd.

''You would bring a witch here?'' Mei said in alarm, starting to bring up her weapon. Vica had heard that some Astartes chapters employed such mutants in their ranks but she had never expected to encounter on herself.

Like all Sororitas she was taught to revile and guard against the psyker and the witch. Occasionally the Sisters had to fight alongside allies with psychic powers, but that didn't change the natural revulsion all Sisters felt towards psykers. Vica knew they were a necessary evil, but fighting alongside one made her stomach churn with disgust.

''Brother-Epistolary Heliocles is an honored warrior of the Chapter!'' The Praetor named Ceranus stood up. ''You will address him with respect Sororitas!''

''Please everyone,'' Nicanor interrupted before anything could continue more. ''We are all allies here with a mission''.

Vica herself was wondering what exactly that mission was. Although she was rather taken aback by the appearance of the psyker she recovered herself. A confrontation was not needed at the moment. ''Your brother mentioned something about securing a flank.'' she said.

''Indeed,'' Nicanor said. ''The honored Brother-Epistolary here'' Nicanor indicated Heliocles ''Was able to detect the presence of a powerful xenos synapse creature leading the swarm.'' he said.

''You would base your battle plans on sorcery?'' asked Mei incredulously.

''Now ,now I wouldn't quite call it that,'' The Librarian said. ''More like sensing the xenos's mind in the middle of this entire city's ether. Not exactly on easy thing to do.'' he commented.

''The exact methods of the Librarian are approved by both the Codex Astartes and the Astra Telepathica. Needless to say that's not important right now.'' Nicanor's voice held an edge of irritation.

''Sisters, we have pin-pointed its location roughly to the Schola Progenium housing barracks east of here. The Third Company of my Chapter is launching an assault there soon. We are moving up to support them.'' He gestured in the direction.

''Your help would be appreciated Sisters.'' the Astartes Sergeant said.

''We would, if you would not bring that witch alon-'' Mei started.

''I'm afraid that's not an opinion,'' Heliocles said dryly. ''I'm not in the habit of disobeying orders from the Captain of the Third. It's not exactly a healthy habit to start.'' he noted.

''And what if we don't? I would like to link up with the rest of our order.'' Sara stated.

Nicanor shrugged, a curious gesture in Astartes power armor. ''If you wish you may do that-''

''No,'' Vica said suddenly. Everyone looked at her. ''The xenos killed Galatea and routed our Preceptory from the field. Our duty is avenging her death and breaking the back of the swarm. That's what she would have wanted. That's what our Canoness would have wanted.'' she said.

She could hardly believe she had spoken out over her more experienced Sisters. Mei looked like she was about to say something before Mara laid a gauntlet on her shoulder guard. She looked at Vica.

''I would have to agree, despite my…..reservations,'' she glanced at Heliocles who simply smiled back at her. ''We must continue on and kill the xenos.'' Mara glanced at the others.

''Whose with me?''

* * *

Nicanor felt his boltgun kick in his hands as the Termagaunt at the end of the hallway exploded into bits of alien flesh and blood. Gore decorated the cold grey walls of the Schola as Nicanor heard a chorus of affirmatives over his vox net. The Sororitas had all elected to join the Praetors and Nicanor immediately led his squad in a breaching operation into the Schola. So far only a few swarms of Termagaunts had been encountered, and all of those had been easily taken care of.

Indeed, it was almost too easy. One of the Sisters, Vica he recalled, was a recent graduate of this very Schola. She had been valuable as a guide to the place. While the Schola was a standard Imperial STC construction and Nicanor's squad had downloaded the floorplans the place itself had been rebuilt only recently. So having her guide them was useful. Nicanor had sent Lukias and his combat squad along Sisters. He kept Heliocles as far away from the Sororitas as possible. The Librarian himself took no offense at that and simply continued on his way, supporting his squad.

''Morovian here,'' his brother's voice came over the vox. He was on point. ''The side galleries should be up ahead if I am right.'' Nicanor listed briefly as he voxed confirmation from the Sisters.

''Let's move up and secure that then.'' he turned to Heliocles.

''Is it near?'' he asked.

''Of course,'' the Librarian nodded. ''I can practically feel its presence. We are nearing it.''

''Excellent.'' then the vox came over again. In the distance the screeching cries of the Tyranids came along with the cough of a boltgun. Daecus turned around, holding up his auspex. Dozens of xenos contact had suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere.

''Contact!'' shouted Morovian. ''Overwhelming enemy force!''

''Understood, we are coming'' Nicanor voxed back as he ran off into a full charge, his power armored legs pumping back and forth as the rest of his combat squad followed. They ran past empty classrooms and abandoned staircases. A rusting locker door flew off its hinges as Nicanor's shoulder hit it.

''Lukias come in on my position and flank them, bring Apion's flamer and the Sisters at the point.'' Nicanor instructed.

''Yes brother.''

Nicanor rounded the hallway. The form of Morovian was best by a horde of scythe-limbed killers who emerged from the side corridors. The Sergeant identified them as Hormanagaunts, close combat variants of the Gaunt genus. He opened fire with his bolter, blowing apart the nearest Hormagaunts. Behind him Ceranus, Velties and Daecus came up, adding their own bolter fire into the Tyranids. As his bolter clicked dry Nicanor drew his power sword and pressed the activated stud. The blade flared to life with cerulean sparks as Heliocles came up.

The Librarian sent a funnel of blue fire into the leaping Hormagaunts, reducing them to blackened skeletons on the ground as Nicanor and Daecus moved up into the Tyranids. The Sergeant's power sword hacked apart swarming tyranid after swarming tyranid as Morovian retreated back.

''Your status brother!'' Nicanor shouted over the vox.

''Tolerable'' Morovian said. Blood ran from where his armor was breached by the Tyranid horde. He swept back snarling xenos with great swings of his huge gauntlets, his bolter having long since run out of ammunition.

Nicanor beheaded another Hormagaunt as it charged at him. The head sailed away as the Sergeant blocked a scythe thrust with his gauntlet. His whole arm jarred briefly before he kicked the Gaunt back and impaled another.

''Brother-Sergeant here we are.'' Lukias voice came over the vox. Promethium came through the side corridor as Apion's form appeared through the wall, followed by Sister Mei's flamer and Rhesus's heavy bolter.

Tyranid after Tyranid was slain by the flamers or by the concentrated bolter fire. Caught between the two Imperial squads the Tyranid horde rapidly began to slacken and fall apart under the cavalcade of firepower brought to bear.

Suddenly Nicanor heard Heliocles call out.

''It's here brother! Its right in front of us!'' he shouted. Nicanor looked around, only seeing the seething hordes of Gaunts.

''I don't-'' he began then Daecus shouted in alarm. Something rumbled and a trio of shapes tore out of the ground. One of them, a large-snake like Ravener, struck right at Velties as he whirled around. Razor-sharp talons tore off his arms as its powerful jaws ripped off his head.

Nicanor ran towards the Ravener, barreling smaller Tyranids out of his way as he brought his sword around. He was angry. One of his squad was dead under his command. The energy-sheathed blade struck the Ravener in the side of its head, cleaving its skull in half. Nicanor reversed the blade and plunged it again into the body. Behind him anther Ravener launched itself at Ceranus, but the Astartes shot it in the nick of time, the bolter round blowing it's head off and sending the corpse crashing back. Another Ravener struck at Heliocles, its sickle-like limbs digging deep furrows in the Librarian's blue armor before it was incinerated by a wave of warpfire.

''Sergeant!'' Helices called out again as the ground rumbled again. Nicanor righted himself and turned around just in time to see a massive shape come out in the middle of the hallway. Rubble fell from the celling and Sisters Leeta and Priscilla were swallowed up by its maw.

Nicanor stared at the massive snake-like head of the beast, covered by thick plates of alien carapace. Its mouth contained row upon row of razor- sharp fangs the length of his sword. Its neck was as wide as the Space Marine was tall.

A Trygon!

Bolter fire hammered it as the beast writhed around , spittle and blood flying out of its mouth. Distantly Nicanor saw the corpses of the two Sorortias fall down its gaping maw before he added his own fire. But the bolter fire, despite the superficial damage it was causing, hardly bothered the beast.

Then Sister Mara shot it with her meltagun. Half of the alien's face simply melted away, vaporized by the sudden shot. With an ear-splitting shriek the Trygon thrashed around and fell down through where it had come from. Suddenly the floor groaned and several Imperials fell to the ground. Heliocles, Vica, Mara, Mei and Sara disappeared into the ground below as the Praetors scaled with inhuman speed out of the gaping hole in the floor.

''Brother-Librarian!'' Nicanor shouted but he was cut off as several Hormagaunts leapt at him. Cursing he charged into battle once more.

* * *

Pain lanced through Vica's being as she landed roughly on her feet. Gritting her teeth she hesitantly righted herself. The fall would have killed her if she had not been in her power armor at the time. Even so the pain was immense.

Next to her the psyker landed smoothly and rose up. Heliocles's eyes scanned the flickering darkness around her. Her Sisters nearby pulled themselves up roughly. Mara looked around, raising her meltagun. They were in some sort of storage basement. Heliocles raised a finger and a small candle of blue flame burned from it, half-illuminating the shadowed storage room they were in. Vica felt a moment of revulsion at his abilities before she saw the form of the Trygon illuminated in the shadows.

It was grievously wounded, she could see that. He raised her bolter and fired off a burst, determined to kill the beast that had slain Priscilla and Leeta. Mara joined her and fired a meltagun blast as Mei added her flames and Sara her bolter. In the shadows the Trygon reacted with rage as another superheated beam struck it in the side. Its massive body whipped forward and Mara and Sara flew back, landing wetly on the wall. Vica winced at the faint crunching sound as the tip whipped towards her and Mei.

A wall of blue energy surrounded her as the tail of the Trygon bounced off. Vica whirled around to stare in shock at the form of Heliocles creating a cerulean shield in front of her and Mei. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he stared at her.

''Quickly! Grab the Meltagun!'' he shouted and Vica turned around and ran. Her legs screamed in agony and she forced herself were Mara's body lay. Behind her the Trygon screeched and roared, slamming its head against the psychic shield once more.

She came next to Mara's body. She gasped in horror, seeing her Sister's broken body twisted and unmoving against the wall. She swallowed her sorrow, biting the tip of her tongue as sweat beaded down her forehead. She searched Mara's body and picked up the meltagun, checking it as her instructors had taught her. Miraculously, it had survived the crash. She turned around just as the blue shield collapsed under the head-butting of the Trygon.

The xeno breast roared in triumph as it lunged forward. Heliocles leapt to the side. A spine blade flicked out and tore through is leg. Mei screamed as she was knocked to the side by the immense bulk of the Trygon who headed right for Vica. The Trygon cleared recognized her as the greater thread of them all. It's immense, half-melted maw opened up, tongue flickered as it closed in on her. Vica fiddled with the meltagun in a panic, trying to find the trigger.

Then a bolt of blue energy struck the Trygon in the side right where the earlier melta blast had struck. The beast's charge was interrupted, it's head slamming into the wall from the force of the blow. Vica leapt to the side and fired the Meltagun. The superheated blast struck the Trygon, melting through its skull. The beast writhed on the floor as Vica sighted the weapon and fired a second shot into its body. Then a third. Eventually the writhing of the Trygon slowly ceased.

Vica dropped the meltagun from her hands, sweat pouring down from her temples. Her heart hammered in her chest as he stared at the burning corpse of the Trygon. Above the cries of the Tyranids began to fade as the synapse link was broken.

Heliocles grunted as he pulled himself up. His left leg was badly mangled and sliced up. He limped towards her, supporting his weight on his staff. Vica watched the psyker as he walked over to her, wondering what he was doing.

Then he smiled and nodded at her.

''Good job.''

* * *

_With the death of the Trygon, Atreus drove through the gap in the Tyranids Swarms and sent the Third and the Sixth right into the heart of the Tyranid Synapse. Rhino-mounted Tactical Squads and Assault Marines spearhead my chapter's assault. Atreus himself leads from the front, locating and slaying the Alpha Hive Tyrant with the help of Veteran Brother Amellius._

_We are deployed only in the rear cleaning up operations. The Captain has decided we have done enough. By the actions of my squad and that of the Sisters we have driven the swarm out from the city and into the ash wastes. A day later we I receive the official report from their Canoness, acting on information from Vica and the other surviving Sister, Mei. It is short, to the point and openly praising the efforts of my squad and my chapter._

_All except for Heliocles._

_I go to him saying that I will correct this injustice. Heliocles just shook his head and said no. He does not want glory or to change the opinions of the stubborn. He simple is._

_''Concern yourself with the Tyranids'' he gives me a thin-lipped smile. ''Our work has only begun.''_


	7. Night

**Night**

* * *

_My name is Varion Nicanor. Child of Orpheus._

_The world of Arbast's Reach has long held much importance to the chapter. Millennia ago Saint Arbast led a crusade here, to cleanse the planet of the heretical filth that had threated it. In his vanguard marched the Praetors of Orpheus. The blessed saint was killed at the end of his crusade, but not before the planet was conquered and consecrated in his name. A series of great temple-tombs was constructed for the saint and his followers, and a honor guard from the Chapter, ten men, were assigned to the planet to honor the ancient partnership by guarding the Saint's body._

_Arbast's Reach, named after the Saint, became a thriving planet, specializing in lumber and ore shipments. Now it is a warzone, an alien species called the Tau has come to the planet in order to conquer it for its resources. The chapter would commit itself elsewhere, against more pressing threats, if they did not already have an honor debt here. The honor guard has been slain in the battle against the Tau and the Chapter has responded in kind._

_The Third, Sixth and First Companies, fresh from the victory at Dameia, move into orbit. We redeploy rapidly. Atreus leads us in strike after strike, rapidly deploying in orbit to obliterate Tau supply lines and bases. It works, the xenos advance is slowed, but the cost is not inconsiderable. The Tau have all sorts of techno-sorcery and their numbers are great. Currently even with our help the Guard and PDF are barely holding on._

_And now the Tau come to the main tomb-shrine of Saint Arbast. The Guard holds on, but they can commit only a small detachment alongside the PDF to defend it. Meanwhile the Tau move in targeting the shrine. They seek to capture it. They know the effect its capture it will have on morale._

_In addition the temple-tomb is heavily fortified, equipped with its own set of void shields and anti-air defenses. Powerful communications equipment monitors the rest of the planet, equipment that not even the Tau's jammers can shut down._

_They come for the main shrine. They come for the chapter's ally. This cannot be allowed._

_We come._

* * *

Nicanor's shot blew the head off the Pathfinder. The alien's body flew back with a thump to land amongst the bushes. A moment later a missile corkscrewed through the forest to tear into the rear of the Devilfish. The alien troop transport spiraled to the ground, smoke issuing out of its wreck as it exploded on the ground. Through the smoke and fire the Pathfinders stumbled through, trying to reach a low copse in order to find cover.

They never got the chance. Apion and Lukias rose up from a ravine and opened fire. Apion's plasma gun and Lukias's bolter blazed as they blew apart the remaining Pathfinders in a short storm of firepower.

''That's the third one this day.'' Ceranus voxed to Nicanor.

The Tau had sent scouts in the place called Saint's Rest, the term for the main temple-tomb that rested among the forested highlands. A massive temple in a natural rocky fortification surrounded by multiple smaller houses and chapels, it was the crown jewel of the pilgrim route on the planet.

And the Praetors were here to protect it.

A detachment of Arbast PDF, one of the Governor's personal elite, was here to protect it. PDF they may be, but in Nicanor's estimation they were more skilled than the average PDF regiment he had encountered in his long experience in war. The Praetors Third Company had set up in the temple, fortifying it where they could and preparing for the Tau assault in the outer forests. Squads had been sent to monitor the expected Tau approaches and eliminate any scouts.

''Our patrol is nearing to an end, the day is falling fast.'' Nicanor looked up. Crimson rays where setting in the distance. It would soon be night.

If tactical reports on the Tau where correct then they utilized nocturnal attacks well. If Squad Nicanor tarried too long they might find themselves in the path of the main Tau attack force. They had done their work well. Now they withdrew.

''So soon?'' Protus asked.

''The challenge hasn't been too much.'' Heron noted.

''Yes, I could stay here for a little while longer'' Protus nodded, he and his brother where hidden in a deep ditch.

''No, we move now, Morovian?'' Nicanor asked his brother. ''Do you have the Rhino prepared?''

''Of course.''

''Everyone, let's go.''

* * *

The Praetors Rhino rumbled into the camo-netted encampment. Two layers of defense protected the main temple. One was in the surrounding forests, mostly PDF rangers and fast moving 10th Company scouts along with Atreus's tactical squads. The second would be at the temple itself, with most of the Imperium's heavy units. The white and blue Rhino rumbled along, sending small animals scurrying. Two camouflaged PDF troopers saluted the Rhino is awe as it passed into their camp. Scores more soldiers paused for what they were doing to look at the vehicle.

The Rhino stopped and the rear door fell to the ground. Squad Nicanor exited, weapons held at ease as their sergeant made his way over to the center of the camp itself. Captain Atreus turned around to meet him. The Captain himself was pouring over a map with Colonel Myers, head of the PDF assigned to the temple. He was clad in his usual ornate artificer armor. Next to him was one of the Eagles of Orpheus, his command squad, holding his comb-crested helmet.

''My lord.'' Nicanor rapped his gauntlet against the azure Aquila in his chest.

''We have completed our patrols. Three Tau vehicles have been sighed. Their ''pathfinder'' scouts have all been dispatched as well.'' Nicanor reported.

''We've been receiving similar reports from the PDF,'' Atreus nodded. ''Colonel if you will?'' he gestured to Myers.

Myers was a tall muscular man, short compared to the superhuman bulk of the Praetors, but still hale and healthy looking. Nicanor could see he was faintly sweating and his heart rate was accelerated. He was clearly nervous about being in the presence of the Emperor's Angels.

''My platoons have encountered mounted scouts along with some sort of operational drone as well as the presence of Kroot.''

''Kroot?'' Nicanor asked.

''Yes,'' Atreus nodded. ''As you know from the reports Kroot are highly skilled at fieldcraft. Mostly likely the Tau assault will be precluded by units moving in the forest.'' he said.

''My men have laid traps, although we don't' know if it will be enough.'' Myers said.

''I doubt they will penetrate the main temple's defenses'' Atreus said. ''It's too well guarded for that. No, my concern is the outlying defenses.'' he explained to Nicanor.

The sergeant quickly studied the map.

''What are those?'' he asked.

''Civilians,'' Myers said. ''Pilgrims who arrived just as the news of the war came and some of the local families and temple-keepers.''

''They are a liability my lord,'' Nicanor turned to Atreus, ignoring Myers. ''You can't keep them here.''

''We have nowhere else to send them,'' Myers protested. ''Outside they would be at the mercy of the Tau and the elements. The best chance for survival is here.''

''They take up room and would get in the way.'' Nicanor pointed out.

''We would fight harder with them. I am from this area, my family is here as well.'' Myers replied. Nicanor was impressed that he was actually mustering the courage to argue with him.

''Are you suggesting that you need your families for victory?'' Nicanor asked. For him, just fighting for the Saint's body was enough.

''No, but our courage would be strengthened if our families were with the Saint.''

''_Your_ families.'' Nicanor corrected him.

''Enough Varion.'' Atreus suddenly spoke up, using the given name of Nicanor. ''Enough, we are here to protect these people in addition to the shrine. Besides, it's too late to move them anyway, and moving them away would damage the morale of the PDF troopers stationed her'' he said.

Nicanor had no more arguments, at least not for his Captain.

''Of course my lord.'' Nicanor could see Myers wasn't looking at him.

''Now Brother,'' Atreus switched back to formal address. ''Techmarine Silus is requesting a final observation on the vehicles here. Go with him and inspect your Rhino one more time.'' he ordered.

''Yes my lord.''

* * *

**''Inspection: In-Progress. Time: Ten minutes for complete benedictions of the Machine Spirit.''** Silus said in a monotone.

The Techmarine was clad in his own customized red armor. One shoulder guard was painted the blue and white of the Praetors with the starburst shield insignia. Hooking over his shoulders was a variety of servo-arms.

Currently he was looking over the Rhino of Squad Nicanor. All around him pasty-skinned servitors attended to his needs, handing him tools and inspecting armor, each of them was clad in red robes.

''I understand honored Techmarine.'' Nicanor nodded and turned to his squad.

''What now sir?'' Ceranus asked.

''Brother I don't wish to waste time here. We wait.'' Nicanor said.

''I would like to visit the Saint's tomb.'' Protus suddenly said.

''You have not seen it?'' asked Morovian.

''Me neither.'' Apion added.

''It's been a few decades since I've seen the Saint's tomb. Sir may I visit?'' Daecus added.

Even though they were wearing helmets Nicanor could feel their eagerness.

''Fine, go ahead, but you have ten minutes''

''Yes sir.'' his squad spit apart as the members strode of into the temple itself, Nicanor had seen the Saint's body many years ago when he was still a novice. He had little desire to see it again.

''Sir? If it's all right I'll go inspect the defenses once more.''

''Go.'' Nicanor waved him on.

Soon, he was alone, apart from Silus and his servitors. But the aloof Techmarine said nothing to him and he was probably too busy with his own work to be busied with chatting with Nicanor. The Sergeant instead went over to a nearby small chapel to collect his thoughts.

The Chapel was one of the smallest ones on Saint's Rest, mostly reserved for pilgrims who were too poor to attend the main service in the temple itself. It was made of white oakwood and had bronze plates depicting the God-Emperor fitted into the walls. As he entered the chapel radiant light from stained glass windows shone over his armor. Abandoned pews sat lined to one another in neat rows. At the end of the chapel was an empty altar with a double-headed Aquila mounted over it.

It was almost peaceful here, Nicanor reflected. He had holstered his bolter and stood still as a statue in the quiet chapel. In the distance his enhanced hearing could make out the repairs that Silus was conducting.

His enhanced hearing picked up another set of footsteps behind him. These ones where much lighter than any of his brothers or lighter than any of the mortals he had met. It was almost as if it was from….

…a child. A golden-haired child appeared at the end of the chapel. It was a girl, dressed in a brown dress with a white bow in her hair. She appeared to be wandering the chapel, a look of innocence in her eyes, or at least what Nicanor thought to be innocence.

Then she spotted him.

''Are you an angel?'' she asked.

Nicanor didn't answer.

''I made this for you.'' she lifted something towards him. After a few moments Nicanor reached down with a faint hiss of servos and lifted up the piece of paper.

It was some sort of crude drawing of a stereotypical angel flying above the clouds. Underneath there was the girl, what he assumed to be her mother and what looked like her father.

The father figure looked vaguely familiar, wearing a crude resemblance to a PDF uniform. She was one of the local families here then.

''I'm scared. Daddy said he would protect me.'' she looked at him with blue eyes and tugged at the scabbard of his sword.

''Will you protect me and Daddy?'' she asked. Nicanor gently removed her hand from his scabbard.

He heard more footsteps. A woman in a blue dress appeared at the doorway. Her mother, Nicanor assumed. She rushed over, skirts rustling as she picked up her daughter.

''Silvia! What have I told you about going off alone!'' her voice was panicked. She glanced briefly at him in awe as he focused his gaze upon her.

''I'm sorry my lord, she just runs off.'' the woman said.

''You should listen to your mother.'' Nicanor said, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the chapel.

Then his internal vox activated.

**''Attention Brother-Sergeant Varion Nicanor,'' **Silus intoned. **''Status: Repairs completed.''**

''Thank you.'' he voxed back and sent out a message to his squads as he walked out of the chapel.

A minute later the rest of Squad Nicanor assembled in front of the Rhino. Apion looked at Nicanor.

''What's that?'' he asked.

Nicanor realized he was still holding the paper.

''Nothing.'' he said as he pocketed it.

* * *

The Praetors' rhino rumbled along as vox-reports came in.

''Contact at Sector Seven! Tau personnel carriers moving in alongside Fire Warriors!'' blared a PDF trooper.

Nicanor and his squad took this all in, their enhanced minds processing the battlefield information as beast they could. Even for their augmented minds it would hard to understand exactly what was going on.

They got the rough picture, the Tau and Kroot had made a nocturnal assault only to run into complications. Apparently the local PDF where especially ingenious in their ambushes and traps and with the added might of the Astartes the whole advance was floundering apparently.

''Sensor sweep is picking up contacts thirty meters away'' Daecus announced.

Without words Squad Nicanor filed out. The forest was dark now, night had fallen, the crescent moon shone down below as the Praetors activated their helmet's infrared settings and swept out into the night ready.

Then a bolter fired.

''Contact.'' Ceranus announced, quickly followed by Lukias and Heron.

Moving through the undergrowth came the Kroot. Nicanor caught sight of a spotted, beak-like face before he blew its head off. Another Kroot died coming in from the right. Whistling rounds tore furrows and chunks out of their power armor as the Praetors stood their ground. The Kroot where coming in fast, using every stich of cover they could in order to flank and close with the Praetors. It was a good attempt, but Nicanor anticipated it and the Praetors fire was already punishing the Kroot as they moved through the night.

Two more Kroot fell back, their chests reduced to scraps of meat by Nicanor's bolter. Another was vaporized by a shot from Apion's plasma gun. They were tall things, as tall as the Praetors, but much thinner, covered in whipcord-like muscle. Their faces were avian and quilled. They were dressed in a variety of leathers and xenos skins.

Nicanor's power sword came free as he activated its field. He beheaded the first Kroot that lunged at him, swinging a rifle-like club as him. The xeno's head slid from its shoulders and he gutted the next one with his blade. A club rebounded off his shoulder as he sidestepped a blow that would have otherwise taken his head off. His power sword flashed and a Kroot lost an arm, quickly followed by its head as he bisected another armed Kroot coming across.

All around him the Praetors fought off the Kroot assault, Lukias and Protus with knives, Moroivan with his massive fists, Heron, Apion, Daecus and Ceranus with point-blank bolter fire and Rhesus with the barrel of his missile launcher.

And then, seemingly as quickly as they had come, the Kroot fled, bloodied and broken.

* * *

''Squad Nicanor where are you?''

Sergeant Paulus's Devastators sent bursts of heavy bolter fire and krak missiles through the forest. Chips of bark where blown high into the air as a pair of Tau battlesuits exploded in the distance. One Devastator was already dead, slain by a pulse rifle shot through the head. Paulus grunted as another pulse rifle shot burst through a section of weakened ceramite on his knee and forced him to the ground. Current his squad was holding a position with the help of a group of PDF troopers. Tau Fire Warriors had advanced through the undergrowth and attempt to outflank them.

Giant white and blue forms trampled through the bushes. Small trees and bushes where smashed aside by their armored bulk as bolters barked. Fire Warriors fell back, their bodies blasted into bloody chunks by the bolters.

''Squad Nicanor is here brother.'' The voice of his fellow sergeant sounded over the vox-link. It had been hours since the first attack had begun and it was almost midnight.

Nicanor and Protus led the charge. Twenty Fire Warriors turned around and opened fire, but the Praetors where too fast and they had closed too quickly. Nicanor's power sword flashed and xenos bodies fell to the ground in chunks while Protus went to work with his knife. Daecus tossed a set of frags into another group of Fire Warriors as Lukias led an assault into the remaining Fire Warriors, Heron, Apion, Ceranus, Morovian and Rhesus following him in their assault, Rhesus's missile launcher slung.

In less than a minute all the Fire Warriors where slain in one brutal assault.

Paulus got up, his armor system injecting painkillers into his system. In the forest the form of Nicanor came up. His comrade's armor was blasted and pitted all over, stained with xenos's blood. The pulse rounds of the Tau had left their impression in his war plate.

''Status?''

''One slain, we've so far resisted them. We've lost the _Blazing Spear_.'' Paulus gestured to the husk of the support Predator nearby.

Nicanor nodded.

''I see-'' he began.

''Captain! Hostiles!'' Ceranus shouted, snapping off a shot into the bushes.

Briefly, Nicanor saw nothing, but then a thin ripple of energy sliced across the night and he adjusted his infrared slightly. The faint outline of some sort of Tau battlesuit appeared in his vision, he could barely see an outline though, it was using some sort of cloaking device.

''I can't see any on the auspex'' Daecus shouted as the world exploded into gunfire. Rotary-mounted cannons blasted the forest around them. Another one of Paulus's Devastators was blasted to bloody rags by the concentrated fire as Nicanor ran behind a tree.

Meanwhile Apion opened fire at the position where the fire was coming from. There was a bright blue plasma flash and the melted slag of a Tau battlesuit was revealed. Copying their brother the rest of Squad Nicanor shot into the darkness. Another Tau suit exploded, blue blood raining into the night as Nicanor switched his targets and let out another burst. Another suit flickered in the darkness as his shells struck him. Then a volley of fire answered him.

Morovian began to ask something as he fired off his bolter, than a rain of fire from two different sides caught him. For a moment his massive form wavered and then fell to the ground, bloodied and broken.

Nicanor snarled in frustration as he saw Morovian's life-rune in his helm go blank. His vital signs were gone. Morovian was dead. Nearby Apion stepped up and fired his plasma gun where one of the bursts had come from. For a brief moment a Tau suit was illuminated then vaporized. More bursts knocked Apion back into a tree. Nicanor's bolter fell silent and he drew his sword once again, immediately a blue glow suffused the blade and he leapt forth. Coming nearer he could see the shape closer through his visor.

The sword flashed and the twin halves of the body fell apart, blood decorating the bushes nearby. More shouts and a grunt of pain came to his right as Rhesus fell down, his left leg blown to bloody rags. More bolter shots filled the night and then the Tau fire stopped.

''Daecus, Lukias check the area, I want to know if that's the last of them.'' Nicanor commanded. He went over to Morovian's body and looked it over.

He cursed, the head and chest where blasted apart by repeated pulse rounds. He was definitely dead.

''Morovian? Is he-'' Protus began.

''-Yes'' Nicanor got up. ''Rhesus?'' he asked.

''I'm alive sir,'' the Astartes gestured to his bloodied leg. ''But I can't move now, it's almost gone.'' he mentioned.

Nicanor opened up a vox channel.

''Contact has been made with Tau stealth units. Morovian is dead and another man down.'' he voxed Atreus. After a few moments a reply came in.

'' I am currently in a bad situation Brother Nicanor, Kyros has his hands full already. Can your man hold for now?''

''Affirmative, were do you need us?''

For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of distant weapons fire.

''A large band of Kroot overran one of the rear PDF positions, move back to the outer areas of the main temple, if I'm right they should be there.''

''Yes my lord.'' Nicanor shut of the vox.

''Everyone hear that?'' Nicanor asked.

''Of course sir,'' Lukias came back. ''We've checked the area, just corpses.''

''Brother, I'll hold this position and guard Rhesus,'' Paulus came up. ''My orders are to hold this position anyway.''

Nicanor nodded.

''Rhesus?'' he asked.

''Yes sir?''

''We'll be back for you. Now move out, Apion and Ceranus take point.''

* * *

More weapons fire sounded in the distance as Squad Nicanor moved through the forest, weapons at ready. Morovian's death had hit Nicanor hard, but he kept it under control. Only the battle mattered now.

''Dead PDF.'' Protus noted as they came across butchered corpses they looked like they had been hacked apart by knives or clubbed to death. Many had chunks of meat missing in various portions. Heron made a disgusted noise.

''The Tau are bad enough as xenos, but these Kroot? Even lower than animals.''

Nicanor had to agree with them.

''Contact.'' Ceranus said. In front of the Praetors a Kroot was bending over a corpse and taking it apart with its knife. It looked up, dark alien eyes widening in shock as it gave a surprised squawk before Ceranus blew its head off.

As soon as Ceranus had done that more growls and shapes emerged from the darkened trees ahead. Slugs began to impact off power armor as the shapes of the Kroot appeared, firing at the Praetors. Apion returned fire, vaporizing two Kroot and the tree they were hiding behind. Bolters replied to the Kroot gunfire and xenos where blasted apart as the Praetors moved forward ruthlessly in an assault formation, with Protus and Daecus providing cover fire for their brothers, rapidly the Kroot retreated from the bushes.

Then leaping animals came out from the bushes. Huge avian hounds with quilled heads, they rushed at the Praetors quickly, before any bolters could be brought up to shoot them. Nicanor's sword swept out and he cut one in half midair as the rest attacked the Praetors. Protus and Daecus came in, knives flashing as they helped drive the hounds back. Heron staggered, a chunk of his thigh armor ripped away and the meat under it mutilated by a powerful bite He slugged the beast in the face. Ceranus's augmetic arm was torn away as the hand as he beat the Kroothound over the head with his bolter.

It lasted ten seconds, but the fight felt like an hour as the Praetors drove the Kroothounds off. Over a dozen corpses littered the floor alongside their Kroot masters as the last few hounds bounded off into the night.

Lukias managed to shoot one as they left. It was small consolation.

Nicanor looked around, it had been some sort of attempted ambush, however the Kroot had obviously underestimated the Praetors and got more than they had bargained for. Still the Astartes where banged up pretty badly, their armor would need a major overhaul by the chapter serfs.

''Movement up ahead, by the chapel house there. Silus reports he's driven off his attackers. They should be near there.'' Daecus looked back up form the auspex. Nicanor voxed a moment for information, then nodded.

Up ahead was the chapel. Sounds of fighting and screaming came from the place along with alien snarls. At the faintest edges of his enhanced hearing he heard some sort of strange footsteps around the house.

A large ape-like beast came loping out. It had an avian face and a Kroot balanced on top of its muscular back holding into a gun that was bolted into the beast's back. It fired it and Protus fell back, cursing as his shoulder guard was ripped away. The Kroot barely had a moment to move the gun to a new target before a shot by Apion vaporized the Kroot and its steed. The plasma gun it the marine's hand began to hiss and overheat as Apion cursed.

Suddenly the night was filled with Kroot coming around the house. Immediately Nicanor opened fire along with the rest of his brothers. For a split second over a dozen Kroot where downed before the thing became a confusing melee.

Nicanor's power sword hacked down Kroot after Kroot, bladed clubs tearing strips of ceramite from his armor as the Praetors hacked and shot through the swirling melee. Up ahead Nicanor saw a Kroot fire off a shot from the chapel and disappear. Angry that the xenos dared defile a house of the Emperor, Nicanor leapt forward as Lukias and Heron covered him with their knives. Nicanor smashed through the remnants of the doors and into the chapel itself.

A Kroot leapt as him, claws spread out to grapple him. He shot it point blank, throwing the bloodied xenos back. Two more leapt over the pews. One struck the Praetor with blinding speed, smashing apart the azure eagle on his chest. Nicanor beheaded him and gored the other one through the chest.

As he threw the corpses away he noticed terrified sobs. Feminine sobs. Kneeling at a nearby pew at the end of the chapel, was the little girl and a set of bloodied corpses. For a moment Nicanor realized who they were.

Then a Kroot merged from the darkness, standing over her with its rifle club. It raised its club and Nicanor sped into action. With his bolter dry and no time to reload he had only one option. He hit the Kroot like a freight train and sent it flying into the altar, tearing down the double-headed eagle with its sheer force.

Nicanor leapt over its corpse, stabbing downward with his power sword, gutting the Kroot through the chest. The thing hacked up blood before dying and then Nicanor turned to look at the girl nearby.

Her face was streaked with blood and tears, and she was traumatized, but she was alive. Then she looked up at him and screamed. Nicanor whirled around, but it was too late.

Something blurred from the shadows with a speed that not even the other Kroot could match. The Shaper swung its blade club at Nicanor's head. The Astartes barely managed to get out of the way as the blow connected, tearing onto his helm.

He fell back, pain blasting his head as his visor fuzzed up. He tore it off just in time to see the Shaper raise the blade club up again. Nicanor raised his power sword to counter the blow and the blade cut through the blade club and the forefinger of the Shaper's left hand. The Kroot screamed and kicked the sword out of Nicanor's hands and leapt on him. Its bloodied hands grasped at his throat and began to strange the Praetor. Nicanor's power armor wheezed and protested as he grabbed the Shaper's arm and forced him away.

The avian face stabbed forward, grazing his forehead. Nicanor welled up his glands in his mouth, accessing the acidic salvia glands there that all pure sons of Guilliman had. He spat out, his spittle raking over the Kroot's face and throat. The Shaper fell back, bloodied claws scrambling at the floor as it stared at Nicanor with hate-filled eyes. It leapt back again, its hand punching through Nicanor's chest armor, sending shards of ceramite splintering through his chest. Nicanor coughed up blood and then kicked the Shaper away.

Rolling away Nicanor looked for the nearest weapon he could find. It was a PDF knife, at the side of one of the corpses. The face of the girl filled his bloodied vision for a moment before Nicanor grabbed the PDF knife and moved forward. The Shaper leapt up like a spring and hit the sergeant's chest. Nicanor felt pain flood his body even as his armor strolled to pump his form with painkilling drugs. He thrust the knife forward, into the Shaper's ribs and into its heart.

The avian xenos screeched and kicked at Nicanor, denting his power armor where the Kroot kicked, but Nicanor grabbed the xenos's neck with both arms and twisted around with all his servo-assisted strength.

With a snap the Kroot's head twisted around at an unnatural angle. Nicanor tossed the bloodied form of the Shaper away and fell to the ground.

Pain engulfed his very being, the fight with the Shaper had pushed him more than any other foe, save perhaps for the Alpha Legion Champion had had fought over two years ago. He fell to his knees, blood dripping over his vision.

He then felt the soft hands of the girl touch his face as she hugged him closely, sobbing with fear and anguish. For a moment Nicanor was stricken, he had no idea what to do. Making war was one thing, but confronted with a young crying girl he had no idea how to react.

He didn't know what to do.

At the end of the chapel Lukias entered, his armored slicked with alien blood. ''The enemy had been annihilated Brother-sergeant, what?-'' he said, looking upon the strange sight.

Nicanor looked up at him and carried the girl gently as he was able to.

''Get my weapons Lukias, get the girl to safety and then we return to the fight.''

* * *

_The girl's name was Silvia Tarren. Her father was a PDF private who deserted his post to find her and her mother a local gardener. They are both dead. She is an orphan now. I don't know how to emphasize her._

_She's weak and scared, but I cannot blame her for she is merely s a small child. I asked Myers to change the records of her father to dying at his post, in order to retain her honor. It's the least I can do for her._

_She's going off to the Schola I guess. There will be certainly a lot wartime orphans now._

_Ah yes…the war._

_The Tau where defeated when morning came when the First Company teleported in and launched a rear assault. Caught between two Imperial forces the Tau where all slaughtered. The temple was protected and it was a handsome victory. The war will go on, but the Tau are now on the losing side. They lost their chief commander at Saint's Reach from the reports I read. A large chunk of their force was also loss and the forces of the Emperor have the advantage._

_My squad is recovering. Apion and Daecus are badly wounded from the Kroot assault, practically to near-death, but they will recover in time. Ceranus, Lukias and Heron all suffered severe wounds but they will recover quicker. Rhesus lost a leg and will be getting a new one._

_Morovian is dead. It's strange now to fight without his presence. And yet….._

_I feel more sorrow for the girl for some reason. Morovian was my battle brother, yet I feel more pity for the girl._

_Is it because Morovian was Astartes and fated to die violently on the battlefield? Is it because I expected it? Is it because the girl is a mere civilian and had no right to see such horrors?_

_I don't know._


	8. Terror's Grasp

**Terror's Grasp**

* * *

_The Praetors have come to Cerdian Alpha._

_It is an agri-world, a place of vast grain fields and grox farms. Its sole purpose is to produce foodstuff for the Orpheus sector at large. Twenty worlds, including our Chapter Planet, depend on its exports. We cannot afford to lose it._

_Cerdian Alpha lately has come under an ork assault. The greenskins have appeared out of the warp, bleeding and destroying this planet. Chapter Master Hypatos himself has decree that this planet cannot suffer these raids any longer._

_Four companies descend upon Cerdian Alpha. The First, the Second, the Third and the Sixth, led by the Chapter Master himself. They come aboard the Arclight and Guilliman's Blade alongside an Imperial Guard battlegroup. We strike like a hammer into the greenskin horde._

_I have killed greenskins many, many times before. After the first few days of bloody combat it begins to blur into one. Already the Chapter Master has led the First and the Second against the heart of the greenskin horde and slew the warboss. The war cannot last long now, the back of the greenskin army is broken._

_But there are problems in leaving here. Mysterious unnatural storms have come up, cloaking the planet in darkness, making it harder to leave by orbit. We of the Third Company are stuck in the city of Monar with the Guard while the vast electomagnetic storms abate._

* * *

Varion Nicanor watched as the rain came pouring down again. Howling winds came over the vast fields the surround the city of Monar. Truthfully to call it a city would be a stretch, he thought. Nicanor had been to hive worlds and the forge-cities of the Mechanicus. This collection of houses and processing mills hardly qualified as a city in his mind.

But the Praetors had little choice. Some sort of severe electromagnetic disturbance had prevented the Thunderhawks from extracting the Third Company here until proper orbital extraction can come. Eventually the Techmarines would adapt the Thunderhawks to properly operate, but it would take days.

Days of nothing to do.

The greenskin marauders had been effectively gutted by the Astartes and then finished of by the Guard. Cerdian Alpha was safe, for now. Nicanor had no doubt that he would eventually have to return eventually. War was constant.

He stood in front of a building. It was once some sort of massive silo-house. Now it was converted into a hospital for the Guard. Hundreds of wounded soldiers where sheltered at the edges of the city. There were many more houses with wounded guardsmen and PDF in them. The city of grain was now a giant hospital. The Astartes kept their own wounded separate of course. Apothecary Kyros and his various apprentices had their hands full in treating the wounded. Losses against the greenskins had been few, the lightning war taking place too quickly for the full strength of the ork warhost to be brought to bear.

Nicanor had left his squad behind, having been granted some time off from the patrol shifts. His currently understrength squad was already resting in their Rhino. However Nicanor had a different sort of objective in mind. He came out of the darkness and the rain, showing himself to the hospital sentries. They were guardsmen of the Cadian regiment, clad in the same mottled brown camouflage that most of the Guard regiments had adopted for fighting on Cerdian Alpha.

''Sir Astartes?'' one asked.

''I'm here to visit.'' Nicanor said.

Yalen looked up in disbelief.

''Why did you come?'' he asked.

''Out of curiosity.'' Nicanor looked down on him. He still hadn't removed his helmet.

''I thought Astartes didn't feel curiosity.''

''We feel more than you can think'' Nicanor replied, looking around. Most of the other beds where filled with sleeping Guardsmen, only Yalen and a few others where awake. And those men where Cadians, men who had seen Astartes before and had even fought beside them.

Nicanor knew this regiment. The 132nd had fought alongside the Praetors at Sathis III, an agri-world much like this one, in a conflict much like the one fought before. The orks had been defeated then and they had been defeated now. Normally Nicanor would not give such sentimental thoughts while he was on duty. But now the war had been finished and he was unable to leave to the next one. So Nicanor decided to indulge that human part of him, that curious part of him.

Yalen himself was on the bed, his leg gone from knee down. An ork blade had taken it. As an officer a bionic replacement was likely, especially as the 132nd was considered one of the more famed regiments of the local battlegroup. Nicanor looked over at the Lieutenant's possessions, noting a picture of a girl, around twelve or thirteen Terran years old. She had the same green eyes and black hair as Yalen did. He looked at the Lieutenant curiously.

''Your daughter?'' he asked.

''Yeah.'' the Lieutenant shifted to look at the picture. Nicanor's mind flashed to the girl on Arbast's Reach, the child of the PDF soldier.

''Is she on Cadia?''

''No, she's here, in the troopships actually. Her mother is a camp follower.'' Yalen replied.

Nicanor knew of the baggage trains that followed Imperial Guard regiments. Whores, cooks, porters, the disabled and more where essential for a Guard regiment to operate. Even the highly disciplined Cadians had their camp followers.

''So she's not a soldier?'' Nicanor asked.

''No she's just a child. Oh, you mean the Cadian training. No. She's not Cadian born truly and not Guard material. I don't ever plan to see in the regiment.'' Yalen confessed.

''I see.'' the idea of romantic love was alien to Nicanor or having an offspring. He knew of the mechanics of how humans had sex, but the actual process was nothing more than a clinical observation for him. He couldn't even imagine himself doing it. He had no thoughts of lust whatsoever.

''And how are you feeling? Aside from the obvious limb loss.'' Nicanor asked.

''Just dandy. I've already talked it over with the Major, I'll be getting an augmetic replacement as soon as these storms go away.'' Yalen commented.

Something kept on tugging at Nicanor's mind.

''What's her name?' he asked.

''Oh? My daughter? It's-''

Yalen was cut off by a scream.

Nicanor's head snapped around as his enhanced senses heard footsteps and the screams of humans. He held up a hand for silence as he heard more shapes coming in stealthy in the lower levels. They were being attacked. But by whom?

Nicanor checked his armaments and noted he only had his power sword. He was not expecting any kind of attack otherwise. He looked around and spotted a lasgun by a soldier's bed, quickly Nicanor checked it out and looked at the charge reading by the side.

''I'll be borrowing this'' he said to the shocked Guardsmen.

''What's happening?'' Yalen asked.

''I don't know.'' Nicanor answered moving down the reinforced steel stairs that groaned under his weight. He mentally cursed. Anyone could hear that, he just hoped that whoever was butchering the wounded downstairs was too busy with their activities than to notice him.

He activated his squad vox, trying to find help. Nothing but static answered him. Something was interfering with the signal. Briefly he tried another set of signals just as he finished coming down the stairs. Once he came down into the lower level he spotted long, lithe figures slashing apart wounded Guardsmen in their beds. Nicanor's finger curled around the lasgun's trigger, feeling the tiny unfamiliar object. He squeezed it and took one of the figures through the head.

The corpse fell back, black eyes open with shock. Others stepped what they were doing and focused on him. Nicanor recognized them as Eldar, ones part of the piratical sub-breed. They looked at him for a moment before springing into action.

They were black blurs in the night. Nicanor downed two more with accurate shots before they were upon him. Shots from splinter rifles went for his armor joints while the Eldar whipped out knives, aiming for the weaker-armored potions of his warplate.

Nicanor's power sword flashed out as one Eldar ducked the blade, another beheaded an Dark Eldar who approached from the right. Nicanor lashed out with a gauntlet. One of the Dark Eldar evaded the blow with an alien laugh before lunging back in with a knife.

But that was what Nicanor was waiting for. Nicanor grabbed the alien and snapped its back with a bearhug. He cast the corpse aside before leaping over the corpse of a dead guardsman to land near a group of Dark Eldar fighting at him. He bisected another one with his blade before impaling another. A knife cut deep into the back of his knee, penetrating the bodysuit there, before he lashed out with a donkey kick, crushing the Eldar's skull.

Two more Dark Eldar died in the bloody dance. Eventually there was only one last Eldar, who leapt back with inhuman agility, avoiding every one of Nicanor's blows. He opened fire with a splinter pistol, trying to aim for his eye lenses.

Then the Eldar dropped dead, a las-round through the skull. Nicanor stopped to see the form of Yalen at the top of the stairs, a cane in one hand and a laspistol in the other. The Lieutenant slowly limped down, leading heavily on his cane.

''Sir? Sir is that you?'' one of the few surviving Guardsmen said. Nicanor recognized a corporal's insignia.

''Yes, West, it's me.'' Yalen looked at Nicanor and then at the corpses. The Astartes was busy checking around for any more ambushers, but their seemed to be none.

''Eldar, the piratical breed. I've fought them before, attacking the wounded to carry off for their torture pits is exactly their typical behavior. These storms must be there work.'' Nicanor judged.

''Are they trying to conquer the city? How big is the enemy force?'' Yalen asked.

''No, they are raiders, and I don't know how many they could be. From my experience they would probably go after the wounded and the defenses. There is a full Astartes Battle Company in this city. Going by past Eldar behavior they will avoid us and go after the sick and wounded.'' Nicanor reasoned.

''Well they obviously didn't expect you to be here eh?'' Yalen noted.

Nicanor shook his head and then looked at his leg wound where the knife had got him. There was another wound in his left elbow. Nicanor cursed. The Dark Eldar coated their weapons in poisons, and although he had an Astartes's enhanced immunity to poisons, enough of them and even he would be felled.

He could already feel his body slowing down as the xenos poisons ravenged his systems. He needed an Apothecary, he needed Kyros.

''Nicanor?'' Yalen asked.

''The weapons are coated in poison, if you get cut you are as good as dead for a normal human, well technically speaking you are completely immobilized for them to take away, but here, these men with their wounds? They are as good as dead.'' Nicanor mentioned to the few survivors.

Most could not even speak for their bodies had been frozen by the Dark Eldar poison, their flesh warped and discolored. Some looked with wild eyes.

''What can we do for them-'' Yalen huffed as he stumbled on one leg. Nicanor came over and caught him, lifting up the Lieutenant.

''Go quickly, the Eldar will be coming for you, get those men who can fight and give them weapons.'' Nicanor said.

''And you?''

''I need to contact the rest of my chapter.''

* * *

''Slay them! Guilliman watches us!'' bellowed Iapetos. His crozius blazed as he pulped the head of a warp beast that leapt at Squad Nicanor. The Squad's bolters roared again as they gunned down several more warp beasts.

''Eldar warriors flanking from the sides with weapons.'' Voxed Heron to the rest of the Praetors, Rhesus nodded and swept his heavy bolter around, showering the advancing figures with heavy bolter fire as they darted among the trees.

Getting a lock on the Dark Eldar was difficult, for all their agility they were not stupid and kept their distance. Currently Squad Nicanor was pinned down near their Rhino by multiple groups of Dark Eldar and warbeasts.

The Eldar attack had been a surprise and Third Company had to dig in and await reinforcements from the rest of the Chapter if they could hope to survive. Atreus was able to send out a brief message before the rest of the Praetors where attacked.

_Overall it's looking poorly_, thought Lukias. He had attempted to raise Nicanor over the vox, but the Sergeant's messages had been garbled. Lukias would have thought him dead if not for his life sighs still read green in the tactical readouts of his helm.

''Brother!'' pointed out Apion as he let loose another flamer burst. '' Lukias saw what he meant.

Another black armored skiff escorted by multiple bike-riding Eldar came around the corner. A beam of pure darkness came forth and the Rhino that they were taking shelter near exploded into bits of flaming metal.

Squad Nicanor weathered the assault, but that did not stop the jetbikes from flying overhead, firing off their splinter cannons. Apion fell back, flamer sputtering promethium as one of them swopped in enough to cut him in the neck.

''Apion!'' cried Lukias. He fired off a brief burst, downing a jetbike before risking a look at his brother. Apion was bleeding from the neck for a few moments before his Larraman cells began to staunch the wound.

Rhesus brought his heavy bolter up, blowing two more jetbikes out of the sky. However the Raider jinked when several heavy bolter shells chewed up its side. Smoking the Eldar skiff flew off, several figures leaping form the sides. They were slender females, scantily clad in what seemed to be armored bodygloves or stylized gladiator suits. However despite their fragile appearance Lukias knew them to Eldar close combat specialists and very deadly.

One of them, a leader by her spiked and greased hair, raised her weapon and gestured her sisters forward. Then Ceranus blew her head off with a carefully aimed shot. However that did not stop the rest of the wyches from leaping over the rubble and darting their ways towards the Praetors.

''Protus take the flamer from Apion.'' Lukias instructed, and as his brother scrambled to do so Lukias ordered the rest of the squad to divide their fire.

It didn't work, the wyches were even quicker than their other brethren and in the rubble of the ruined park it was easy for them to close rapidly with the Praetors, eventually Lukias and his men would be forced into close combat.

Then there came a screaming noise as ten Astartes warriors came crashing down from the air, fire trailing from their jump packs. Assault Squad Atavian landed with a thud among the rubble, their flamer bearers sending out jets of promethium, incinerating the approaching form of a white and blue Land Raider rumbled through the foliage along with a pair of Predators who opened fire upon the Dark Eldar among the ruins. The Eldar fled back under the punishing firepower.

''Captain Atreus? Is that you?'' Lukias voxed.

''Affirmative brother.'' The front doors of the Land Raider slammed down and Atreus, fully cloaked and armored, came out weapons at ready. Behind him was tactical squad Iulus, bolters at ready.

Atreus looked around.

''Where is Nicanor?'' he asked.

''He was visiting the nearby hospital when the attack came.'' Daecus said.

Atreus was silent for a moment when he took in this information.

''That's not good, I needed him leading this squad, most of my command is scattered.''

''And the Guard?'' Iapetos asked.

''Their command is shot to hell, I'm trying to reach them, but it's difficult.'' Atreus stated.

''What do we do know?'' Lukias asked him.

''Nicanor was at the hospital you say? Then we will find Eldar there, and perhaps our lost brother. Now come.''

* * *

Nicanor's armor ran through his diagnostics. The Praetors groaned as he leaned against the wall. His immune system was holding off the various cocktail of xenos drugs, but it still hurt and numbed his limbs. What's worse was that he had no bolter.

''Nicanor?'' Yalen asked. He had brought a few dozen men together in the central sanitarium. Most of them were able bodied enough to hold a gun. The few that could where brought in the center of the sanitarium.

''I'm fine for now.'' Nicanor said, clutching his power sword. He still had his blade, and a lasgun, although the thing felt pitifully small.

Nicanor could smell the nervous sweat and fear of the guardsmen through his helmet's olfactory sensors It was one thing to fight on a battlefield fully healthy and armed, but hastily equipped and in a dark hospital was completely different.

Yalen was tough, despite having lost an a leg. If he had been born on Orpheus, Nicanor was sure he would have been made into an Astartes. He possessed the right kind of steel required to become one.

''Did you hear that?'' one of the men asked suddenly. Nicanor did, it was a low, keening sound. The Astartes held up a hand and all the Guardsmen quieted. Slowly Nicanor stepped forward, his armor's sensors sweeping around for any kind of sound.

Then something huge burst through the wall, sending chips of plaster flying about. It was a massive, skinless beast, with glistening red muscle and horns. It vaguely resembled some sort of monstrous wolf or dog with rows of dagger-like teeth.

It leapt at Nicanor, knife-like teeth digging into his gauntlets. Nicanor's blade took it through its midsection and he kicked it off. He fired of another las round as the warp-stink wafted into the place. Reality itself was being open here and Nicanor could feel it. Another crimson warp beast exploded as the guardsmen began to fire into the darkness. Red-eyed nightmares jumped out of the shadows to snatch guardsmen to pieces and carry them off with bladed claws.

Then suddenly Yalen appeared beside Nicanor as he killed another warp beast. He shouted something to Nicanor, but it was lost in the din of battle. The one-legged Guardsmen was hurled back by a lashing tail of a scorpion like beast. The beast's tail snaked forward to kill Yalen, but Nicanor's sword countered it, severing the tail in two. A foul smell hit the air as blue fluids stained the ground. A quick reserved sword stroke took the beast through the head.

And then Nicanor felt a pain in his other led as another set of figures came through the darkness. He saw a tall lithe figure pirouette through the air away from his sweeping blade. It was an Eldar wych, one of their gladiator close combat specialists.

She smelled of blood, fear and alien chemicals. She wore a black bodysuit with various pieces of metal interlocking and linking in strategic areas. It was an armor designed to show off more of the wearer's physique then to offer any real protection. Her face was high-browed and narrow, like the rest of the Eldar species. Her skin was pale as Nicanor's own armor and her hair was night-dark and flowing over his shoulders. Her lips were blood red and she gave off a smirk before she moved at him and cut him again.

Nicanor mentally swore as he was forced back again, the poisons where slowing his body. Similar companions came out of the darkness, cutting down many of the Guardsmen as they blurred with inhuman speed.

There was more xenos laughter and a multi-pronged trident dove into his wounded leg once more, casting him to the floor again. An electrified net was cast over his helm and another set of knives pierced through the weak point on his armpit.

They were trying to take him prisoner he realized. A prisoner for their gladiatorial pits. He lashed out with rage, anger fueling his superhuman strength. He tore off the net painfully and lashed out. One slender arm came flying away and a wych jumped away striking. Another Wych came at him with her knives, but Nicanor barely was able to read her attack pattern and behead her with one stroke of his sword. Her corpse toppled to the ground as the rest descended upon him.

Pain blasted through his gauntlet as a wych impaled it on a spear. The more pain blossomed through his chest as he looked down at his torso. A power blade slipped through the azure eagle carved there. He was dimly aware of someone behind him.

''You have given us much trouble.'' said a feminine voice. It sounded like an Eldar voice being backed up by some artificial tone. Probably a translator Nicanor realized.

''You will make an excellent fighter in the pit.'' The novice continued, as Nicanor lashed out, however he was far too slow to catch her. Quickly he took the view of an Eldar female with an ornate headdress of some kind and a shimmering powerblade still wet with Astartes blood.

''Now finish him.'' she commanded.

* * *

''I will join you.'' Atreus said as the Praetors hopped off the Predators. Lukias's squad would have preferred to take a Rhino, but however they did not have the luxury and his squad was forced to take a short trip on the Predators.

Gunfire sounded as darkly-armored Eldar warriors appeared outside the hospital building. Lukias could smell human blood on the wind and near alien shouts. He looked over to see Atreus leaping from the Land Raider hatch, weapons at ready.

''My lord?''

''Come with me. Iapetos, Iulus and Atavian are taking care of the rest. Let's find our lost sergeant.'' He commanded, blue cloak flowing behind him. Protus took point with the flamer, Apion having to go to the Land Raider for protection.

The inside of the hospital was a charnel house, with the bodies of slain Guardsmen and Dark Eldar strewn across the floor. Broken lights flickered above and Protus kicked a severed leg out of the way as Daecus scanned the place with his auspex.

''Daecus?' asked Lukias.

''Up a level.'' He said. Protus rushed up the stairs the reinforced steel beams groaning under his weight. He pushed open and door and looked down a hallway, his superhuman senses quickly detecting multiple bodies near. The rest of his squad followed.

''Brother!'' Lukias spotted Varion Nicanor bloodied and on his knees before a group of heavily-armored Eldar females. The Eldar had already spotted them and where reacting quickly, darting towards the Praetors.

''I'm sorry.'' Protus said, recognizing that he had no other choice.

He squeezed the trigger.

A gout of fire issued forth and engulfed the wyches. In the tight confines of the room, the wyches were unable to avoid the funnel of flames that engulfed them. Burning promethium burned flesh off bones as they screamed in their death throes.

Ceranus and Lukias put them out of their misery with single shot bolter rounds to the head.

Nicanor then collapsed to the ground, flames blackening and licking off his armor plate. Behind him was the living, but scorched body of the one-legged guard officer that Nicanor had moved to shield with his bulk.

''Get Nicanor out of here.'' He commanded.

''Sir we have one more life-sigh here.'' Daecus mentioned, looking over his auspex. He indicated an unconscious Guardsman with only one leg.

''Take him too.''

* * *

The battle did not end with a decisive lightning blow. Instead the Eldar simply withdrew as the night pressed on. For days afterword both Astartes and Guard analyzed the battle and went over the entire flow. Eventually they came to the conclusion that the Eldar withdrew because it was not profitable.

The Eldar's main strategy for dealing with the Astartes was simply keeping them busy while the Eldar went after the wounded and defenseless. To an extent, this had worked. Few Praetors had been killed, but thousands of civilians and wounded had been taken prisoner. But when the Eldar had encountered unforeseen resistance among the hospitals, they began to take heavier losses than anticipated. It was theorized that the aliens, having already taken plenty of prisoners, decided to simple cut their losses and run.

Technically speaking it was a victory for the Imperium. Atreus had preserved his company and most of the city. But nobody really felt like it was one. The Eldar had come in almost under the noses of the Astartes and taken what they wanted.

Lieutenant Yalen was one of the only two survivors of his Medicae faculty. He was eventually sent back to the 132nd where he would make a full recovery. The other survivor, Sergeant Varion Nicanor of the Praetors of Orpheus, was taken into orbit when the storms cleared up and placed in extensive care under the Praetors' Apothecaries.

* * *

Varion Nicanor dreamed.

Maybe it was the drugs in his system, or maybe it was some sort of longing, but he dug up memories that were ancient. Memories that he had repressed for decades with hypno-indoctrination and training.

He remembered the cold, spartan hallways of his hab-block where he and his family had lived for the first decade of his life on Orpheus Prime. He remembered all the other families in the collective. It was located in a place called Valion Secundus, one of the many cities on Orpheus.

He lived deep underground, as had most inhabitants. His father, as much as he could remember it, was a factory worker, who helped produce the heavy equipment used for mining purposes. His mother was a PDF officer.

His mother taught him to shoot, before he was set off to the InDoc camps on the Orphic Primus. It seemed almost ironic to him that he could not remember her face. He couldn't remember his own mother's face. He could remember everything since he had become an Astartes, but he could only recall hazily his pre-Astartes days.

His father…he had not known his father well. His father worked from morning till nightfall at the factory and came home late at night. He could not remember his father's face either at all. As much as he could it was simply a blur.

And he had a brother. A younger brother. Varro. Varro Nicanor. That was his name. Someone that mother was teaching how to fight, how to join the Emperor's PDF and perhaps even the Astartes's ranks.

But, Nicanor didn't count him as a brother anymore. Lukias, Protus, Heron, Daecus, Apion and Rhesus where his brothers now. He had no desire otherwise to change that.

This did Nicanor dream on and on.

* * *

He awoke three days later aboard _Guilliman's Blade_, the poisons purged from his body. For three days he had been told, he was wracked in a fever-induced hallucination while the Apothecaries worked on his body in order to save him.

He walked now, with Lukias down a viewport. In the distance Cerdian Alpha glimmered. Other ships of the Chapter fleet hung silently in the void outside. The Chapter had withdrawn its warriors once it became clear that the Dark Eldar had indeed left for good.

''We apologize about the whole ''flaming you'' thing.'' Lukias had said quietly.

''It's fine, I'm not punishing you for it. If anything I should be punished for not being there.'' Nicanor said.

''We don't blame you. Nobody could have expected it. Nobody blames you for seeing that Guardsman.'' Lukias said.

''I blame myself, for leaving you behind. You are my squad.'' Nicanor sighed.

Lukias stopped and grabbed his brother's arm.

''Varion.'' He said quietly. Lukias never used first names. ''Stop it. You are an Astartes of the Praetors. Stop moping like this, it's unbecoming.''

''I was not moping.''

''Then pick whatever term you prefer. I and my brothers look up to you for strength. You've always inspired us in the past.''

''I am just a line sergeant.''

''You're more than that Varion, we need you.'' Lukias argued.

''You're a child of Guilliman, analytical, disciplined and honorable. We pride ourselves on our devotion to duty. The Templars are full of anger and arrogance, the Fists scar themselves and the Hands purge their bodies, but we don't do that.'' His second-in-command continued.

Nicanor sighed. ''I suppose your right. I was there, wounded and trapped. I would have been carted off to the xenos's gladiatorial pits if you hadn't arrived to save me.''

''You have already killed several. Do you thirst for more vengeance?''

''Of course.'' Nicanor nodded. ''I am to pay them back if we ever see them again.'' His fists clenched unconsciously.

''And we will brother, we will.'' Lukias assured him.

''I know. Lukias?'' he asked.

''Yes brother?''

''Once Apion and Protus are out of the Apothecarion tell them to meet with the others. Tell them to meet me with full armor and weapons in the training halls.'' Nicanor commanded.

''Working off stress?''

''No, reforging ourselves.''

''Yes sir.'' Inside Lukias smiled. The old Nicanor was back.

* * *

Two days later Nicanor walked into the Hall of Ancients.

The Chapter Master had been furious over the Dark Eldar's attack. He instructed the Librarians of the chapter to scry for the future while he and his Captains went over the logic engines, trying to figure where the Eldar raiders would strike first. They had received further reports of the same fleet attacking planets in the sub-sector.

Nicanor himself hoped for action against them. He wanted to redeem himself with xenos blood. He wanted to avenge the Imperial citizens that had been slaughtered while under his watch. He needed to cleanse himself of doubt.

But he couldn't yet. In the meantime he wanted to see an ancient.

Amellius was one of the Chapter's honored ancients. A mighty warrior who had served as one of the most famed Captains of the Chapter in the past. He had fallen against the Craftworld Eldar six thousand years ago and had been interned ever since then. He was put inside an ornate Dreadnought sarcophagus. The image of the hull was that of him in life, an Astartes champion standing over a field of dead orks. Honor scroll and kill-markings covered the rest of the hull. One shoulder bore the starburst shield icon of the Praetors.

He had been unable to be properly put into stasis immediately after the battle groundside. So Amellius waited in the Hall of Ancients for the Techmarines to properly prepare and sanctify the ancient mechanisms that made Dreadnoughts sleep.

The Hall of Ancients aboard the _Guilliman's Blade_ was a tribute to the heroes of yore. Weapons and armor was various chapter heroes was preserved in stasis vaults, displayed to the outside world. Trophies and skulls from various alien warlords and kings decorated the place. Nicanor spotted the preserved corpse of an Eldar Autarch and a Tyranid Genestealer Broodlord among them. Both of them had been slain by Captain Atreus's own blade.

''Nicanor. Is that your name?'' Amellius's voice boomed.

''Yes Honored One.'' Nicanor nodded respectfully, helm off.

''I've met many Nicanors over the centuries. Your faces tend to blur together.'' Amellius turned to face him. Nicanor starred into the carved representation of the hero on the sarcophagus.

''Why have you come here?''

''The Eldar.'' Nicanor found himself saying.

''What of them?''

''When I was under the influence of their drugs I saw visions of my past, of my mortal family.'' Nicanor explained. ''I was hoping you had some insight in the manner. I considered going to Chaplain Iapetos, but I wanted the wisdom of the ancients first.''

''Your past? Boy, I can hardly remember when I was alive.'' Amellius laughed, an odd sound coming from a Dreadnought.

''The Eldar sir?'' Nicanor reminded him.

''Of course…the Eldar, they put me in this thing. I have little love for them. I'll be put in the next battle and then in stasis again. You say you saw your family?'' he asked.

''Yes, but I could not see their faces-''

''Then stop thinking of them. I could give you some long speech on how we relate to the common folk better than other Chapters or suchlike, but the truth boy is that we gave up our humanity long ago.''

''I know that-''

''Do you?'' Amellius's deep voice cut through the air like a knife. ''Normal humans have things like jobs, families, lovers. They can hope to grow old and die alongside their families. They can have emotions that we can't. Do you want a summer cottage with a white picket fence boy? A wife and two children?'' Amellius asked.

''No, I don't sir.''

''Then forget about it. After this go see the Chaplain and confide in him brother. Nicanor the human died when he was accepted into the chapter. Nicanor the Astartes was born from him. I'll give a gift to Nicanor the Astartes.'' Amellius turned away from.

''Unlock Vault 8-Beta-16. Authorization: Orphic 88 Amellius.'' The Dreadnought spoke.

Nicanor's eyes looked to a crystal case unlocking on front of him. His breath caught as he realized what was being unveiled in front of him.

''Your helm-'' he said in shock.

''Yes, the helm I wore as Captain, it's a sergeant's now'' Amellius said.

The Helm of Amellius was an ornate MKVII helmet decorated with a comb-crest up the middle and a winged eagle on the brow with grilled mouth, recalling the ancient knights of Terra. It was still painted in its white Captain's colors.

''I am not worthy-'' Nicanor began.

''Oh, stop it. Take it now'' there was something of the old Amellius in the Dreadnought's voice. The Amellius that commanded the Third Company thousands of years ago. Carefully, Nicanor took the helm and placed it on him.

There was a moment before the machine sprits of the helm finished connecting with his MKVII suit. Then a wealth of tactical data opened up before Nicanor's eyes. The helm was an ancient relic with vastly improved communications and sensor banks. He then disengaged the helm and looked back at the Dreadnought.

''Thank you Honored One.''

''Don't thank me. The helm saved my life plenty of times. I figure it should get some use today. Now go'' He said.

Nicanor left the Dreadnought to his contemplations. Maybe he was reminiscing of old battles, or old foes slain in that hallway. Whatever the case, Nicanor stared into the ruby eye lenses of his helmet deep in thought.


End file.
